Relics in autumn’s backyard (a poem)

Making up for a missed day.

Crows in the garden
scaring away the ghosts

Exit someone
lions pace back and forth

Youth has something to say
but not everybody’s listening
the first time

The precious are always troubled
about something

Red guitars sparkle under spotlights
the last stand of artifice
before the earth opens up

The Sagittarius moon hides
in the twelfth house
hoping it will all blow over

It never does

There’s always too much
to think about

Melancholy lines the road
leading to my house

My reputation precedes me

Now nothing will coax the crows
out of the garden

(25 October 2018—posted October 26th)

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