A pile of twigs may be a sign of magpies
building a nest. Or it may be just a pile of twigs.
I am leaning against a signpost that points
toward the outside of town. I have always been
so inclined.

I am looking for new disguises, fed up with
recognizing myself. Did I break? –
or rather, avoiding the rhetorical question,
“I broke, I did.” Then, after the visit of The Glue Man,
I was alright, but since then I have always felt

How will I know when it’s the night? Rhetorical
question. Will the demons show their faces at last
or is it only our worries descending from the sky
to conceal what we love? And another.

Don’t forget to look for the hidden treasure, voices say.
It’s usually behind the door.

You connect the red wire to the terminal.
Or is it the blue?
Oh, just try it.
See what happens.


© Martin Stannard, 2016
illustration Nick Victor

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