Poetry and Poetics
I'm walking out into the town
I've never visited, down a darkened
I've traveled all my life.
Where lamp lights
burn on one by one, possum skitter
on cool tar in a night become a
blanket of heat
and soundócicadas, the suffering
houses swelled with sleepóa trembling
in and out, child-breath, leaf-shudder.
It is getting late.
And more dangerous. It can't
Every child knows there are no safe
any longer. Even here, under
in a town I form with every step.
breath. I watch the possum,
by my shadow, back up against a
and scream like an infant,
then break for shelter.
© by Joel Peckham
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