A POEM by OWEN PAUL EDWARDS

Houses Moving

I did something

didn’t feel right

looked in the window

there she was

another now

shuffling away

they’re cooking something

I’m pot bubbles

tear droppings

snowflake one day

they never leave

sidewalk car window

I’m not supposed

to be here

people are whispering

on the other side

of a metal door

guys in canoes

gold-plated angels

I have a disease

that lets me hear

through metal doors


someone should play

this song but not me

not me. I’ll eat alone.

I’ll cry into my steak.


Owen Paul Edwards (he/him) lives in Baltimore. His writing has appeared in BRUISER, Coalition for Digital Narratives, and other places. Twitter / Instagram.

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THREE POEMS by MALLORY PAYNE

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FOUR POEMS by ANGEL ROSEN