At the Edge of a Lamp Post

Lamp Post is inspired by the small, irrational stories that float to the mind’s surface when confronted with the unknown. The brief thought that a strange creature could be watching just outside of a dark window at night, or the wondering of what is really moves below your feet in a cold lake.  Playing with space here allows the poem to separate and explore individual superstitions as a person moves through the world around them.

I bet there’s new bones, buried here
Soft, and polished,
Laid low with dirt and intention.

 

Good feelings and cascading lace
I bet the land has had enough of it
Convinced we move the oil, make room
For the dead, and our ancestors.

 

What’s left now? And we go a walking
Caught, and careful, slow..
We know those spirits here
Not our own and not for each other

 

Nightly
They rise and snap at their wishbones
Grandmothers only, and children
They hear those sounds, talk

 

Tell stories.
Give the eyes of a knower
And a knowledgeable stranger
There are over 50 of them?
Nod.

 

These are the malevolent
Rhythms of a darker night,
Finder of uncomfortable beds
Sleep, and sleep

There in some word maker’s bony whisper

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