This John Grey poem is creeping up on us.
JEREMY
He casts more shadow
than the average person,
but less love than a roach or rat.
He was the child
who bullied others his age
just by being.
In his teenage years,
he was the pimple-cheeked outlaw.
As man, he’s governed by
the gutter and the moon,
and he’d willingly swap
his arms for tentacles.
His lookout is his attic window.
His hunting grounds,
The city streets.
You’ll see him sometimes
loping along like a two-legged leopard.
His head is swaddled in cobwebs.
His clothes are stained with blood.
About the Author
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Floyd County Moonshine. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings
About The Artist
emoc is an enigma
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