Worn dusty crepes

︎︎︎ Owen Paul Edwards

︎ Mar 7, 2024

It’s ok if you go home after this,
get in bed, turn on the television
or read a book and fall asleep,
and in your dreams

the tennis court is drowning
and smokestacks choke the sky.
Light is drooling on the bricks
and you accept this place

will never produce a young champion,
laying on summer’s hammock.
A fox hiding in the baseball
diamond is pecking at a snow reef.

When you wake up
you cannot remember it.

Owen Paul Edwards lives and teaches in Baltimore. His writing has appeared in BRUISER, Bullshit Lit, and other places.