2009 -- 1.2 (Spring) Poetry

Voyeur by Taryn Alexander ~ep

Hanging                          off
the fire escape, dangling
yellow rain boots,
I consider the moss growing
in the cracks         me.
In the small, dingy kitchen 
you’re c/u/t/t/i/n/g
the celery wrong, cracking
ribs on the chopping block.
Quick eyes flick up from your
chore and I’m caught. Again.
You are willing to sacrifice
your toaster for privacy.
The         whips   the
      cord           in        breeze
and we both
-crumbs on the concrete.