Man in a Chair      by Joe Edwardson

The man in the chair
with gray hair
and a vacant stare
has torn clothes
and wrinkled skin.
His boots are scuffed.

Flying Free

I was a bird today,
flying free.
Free falling from five thousand feet.
Air rushed past my face,
I spread my wings,
and flew free.

I was a bird today.

The green fields came too fast.
My wings felt broken.
I pulled the ripcord and counted
my pennies to save
for the next time.

Tornado

I touch the red vibrating brick walls,
gaze at the flying calico cat,
through broken glass
shards rain on my arm

A scent of fish
questioningly swims through the air.
I hear prayers racing through the mouths
of mad children.

I linger on that questioning scent of fish,
sent forth through this whirlwind
of confusion. Crying constantly,
I can’t find a way
to crawl away from fish.
Fearfully crying, crawling,
trying to escape this.
This questioning scent of fish.

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