Megan Porter Poetry

Tricky to follow these signals

The words keep stalling. Stop. Go!

Dusty porcelain on the bottom shelf—

please don’t break

Just waiting, waiting. Wait?

Oh god, why are we what we hate.

It moves where it wills, we are left

guessing. Endless misery rains

where it goes. Sees no problem in

your destruction. It does as it must.

I can’t change you by wishing.

Just a daisy  in a field

of exotic blooms

passed over  again

. Should I change.

or should the world

All these lives

I feared to live—

Gently, though

I lift the lid

A dead tree still standing, bare branches

breaching the summer sky, alongside road

cracking like skin, today walking an

unusual direction of the same path. Decay

cannot hide in a new perspective.

And

A cane toad, climbed a small wooden

garden wall, rested on the ledge, faced

towards me, watched me puzzle through

Ulysses. Two unwanted souls in the night

air.