the man on juniper hill.

an alphabet poem from 2007.

After she was left and gone, he
Backed away, and fell onto the red plaid
Chesterfield. As he looked up, a chickadee
Drew up to the window, down from the crumbling
Eaves of his peeling, rotted house.
For years now, he had waited, for
Good or bad,
He couldn't yet say.
In his made up mind, it was all alright, but here, on the top of
Juniper Hill, in the light of the moon, without
Knowing how, he had
Lost himself to his
Mind. Now his paranoid mind pulled him away, deaf to the screams of
NO silently ringing through the
Open midnight air,
Penned up by the moon. His
Queries continued to confuse and
Razzle the friendly neighborhood police,
Stopping them in their
Tracks, leaving them scratching their
Unhaired heads. This
Very day, his
Words had pierced them like an
X-ray in an operating room.
Why? they asked, as he fell, dying in the air, the roundness of his stomach a
Zero on the concrete floor.