Previously published in Edge City Review, 2001
He crouches, shadowing shadows
behind an insignificant bush.
Suburban streetlamps fail
to flush him from his lair.
Behind an insignificant bush,
he is still obvious, in dark as in day.
To flush him from his lair,
a neighbor need only name him.
He is still. Obvious, in dark as in day,
he stutters red-faced proclamations.
A neighbor need only name him
to attract the proper authority.
He stutters, red-faced, proclamations
we index, broadcast, gossip, hyperlink
to attract the proper authority.
Too bad the neighborhood’s asleep.
We index, broadcast, gossip, hyperlink.
He crouches, shadowing shadows.
Too bad the neighborhood’s asleep.
Suburban streetlamps fail.
Tamara Sellman’s creative work has been published widely and internationally. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Something On Our Minds (Nov 2017), The Nervous Breakdown (Spring 2018), and Halfway Down the Stairs (Sept 2018). Her work has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize. Sellman works as a board-certified sleep health educator, healthcare journalist, and MS advocate/columnist. “American Blackshirt” was an honorable mention in ByLine’s Formal Poetry contest, Fall 2001.
