A Poem from Janet Cannon's  Poetry Room at IsleWrite.com

town voyeur

every town has one sometimes
two and the cities are filled but
our town voyeur is unmistakably
the baneful thumb of his own

pitifully sore existence with his felt
hat of disguised protection and
shades of sun glazed need he
wears the trench coat of aloneness

like the north side of winter
where the snow never melts
his rubber buckled boots bind
the wind of his being keeping

water out and mold on his soul
his slash pocket hand-filled
frustration walks with him all
around town everyone avoids his

shifting sidestep gait and the
hump on the back of mutterings the
newspaper never writes about him
the radio stations never mention him

our police ignore his existence
yet he maunders about his rituals
the town with glasses of disgust
and fear has never attempted help or

queries of how he got here why he
stays and who the loving person is
who nurtures the dawn of his dreams
or supports the sunset of his heart

Poem by  Janet Cannon

Previously published in
Southwest Heritage.