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Poetry

Mixed Media

by Barrett Warner


    We go to the art museum.
    They have art from around the world.
    Upon leaving we struggle with umbrellas
    and forget to return our ear phones.
    Walking down Charles Street
    we hear strange voice-overs
    at every corner.

    "Many of these alleys
    used to be small rivers
    going to the harbor."

    Hmm. Interesting.

    At home
    we walk around the house.
    The voice-overs
    become our super-egos,
    our conscience.

    Hers is saying "Leave Him,
    Let Go of Him."

    Mine is saying
    "Write poems about her."

 

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