In All Of This Poem by Ben Partenay

these roads are empty now
swept brushed up by the
cold running wind, there
isn’t any soul to speak of

or sing, the black birds laughing
on dew drop wires I am
playing the court jester
entertaining thoughts of you.

it’s just like anything, the
blues guitar sings softly
in the background of my
mind’s eye the curtain tears.

sew it quick, sew it quick
don’t let them see the dew
drops slip sideways off
the wires, the jester in

sack cloth, mourning, mourning
the smile ran off dear birds
these streets are empty and open
enough to swallow you whole