Deadbeat
Her shadow was a lazy loafer,
hiding in the corners of the rooms.
It ate the dog food,
spilled the tea,
left a trail of pizza crusts.
Her shadow mooched
on midnight moans,
borrowed spare change
from the coin jar,
stole the sunshine
from the porch.
Her shadow didn’t want to leave,
although its body shoved off
with a suitcase years ago.
The trees have eyes
to watch us, stalk us,
when we think they
only offer shade.
Look up next time you
seek some shelter.
You may see the tree
regarding you as
fertilizer.
Stuck in the Ocean
Baby brother is a flying fish.
He doesn’t know what he wants,
but it’s not the ocean.
Flying doesn’t last forever.
He crash-lands
into icy cold embrace.
Baby brother is a dive boat.
He doesn’t count the fools
paying money to kiss death.
He leaves us all in the ocean.
It’s not an ocean. It’s a pot.
He leaves us to boil and stew.
Nolcha Fox’s poems have been curated in print and online journals. Her poetry books are available on Amazon and Dancing Girl Press. Nominee for 2023 Best of The Net. Editor for Open Arts Forum, Chewers & Masticadores, Garden of Neuro. Accidental interviewer. Fake news faker.Website /Facebook / Twitter / Medium