Epiphyte Not Epitaph Poem by Edwin Baldwin

This canopy has choked out the light
making the forest of life redundantly obscure.
a coffin for my home; where trees form walls,
confining me to this empty space.
Night comes with it sighs of painful,
sorrow - filtering through vegetation.
Shadows breed coyotes out of darkness,
hidden in acres of howling, and taunting.
Where I am a cursed duck with one wing
stuck on a fence, my compass set north.
Everything is looking down from here;
so willfully strong but, direly bending
to twist, and tangles of over growth.
No need for changing locks;
those slithering vines
made their way off
with my valuables.
From my prospective
time is left on the lease,
but I have already vacated,
gone away - away like the sun.