A POEM by OWEN PAUL EDWARDS
Houses Moving
I did something
didn’t feel right
looked in the window
there she was
another now
shuffling away
they’re cooking something
I’m pot bubbles
tear droppings
snowflake one day
they never leave
sidewalk car window
I’m not supposed
to be here
people are whispering
on the other side
of a metal door
guys in canoes
gold-plated angels
I have a disease
that lets me hear
through metal doors
someone should play
this song but not me
not me. I’ll eat alone.
I’ll cry into my steak.