by Bill Yarrow
The bungalow was unlocked. The screen
door was unhooked. The trout on the
counter was deboned. The deciduous
trees were in a state of virtuous
uncertainty. Fallow thoughts bubbled
into the blistered brick. A stew of
insuperables cooked on the portico by
the balustrade. Tenement emotions befogged
the windows as they encircled the balding
home. The lawn wept in its insolvency.
All rights reserved.
This poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012).