SQUAWK BOX ON THE STREET

by James Penha

Something there is that doesn’t love:
a wall.

Shadows shake and stammer
This stage of the world--
They talk, these self-important stars
Spread out like stooges waiting
For Godots
Or the next dowel driven
In their heady knotholes. How hard
It is to balance books
On a thin red line
With no limbs to stand
On but the maestros’
Arms
And so they stand for nothing
But the fall.


James Penha edits The New Verse News.
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