DAVE ETTER

PATRICIA WELLS:

Monday Morning

The six
fat crows
that sit
on the
bare limbs
of my
ash tree
stare with
dead eyes.

They know
damn well
I have
heavy
debts I
cannot
never
ever
repay.

CRYSTAL GAVIS:

Depressed After Being Fired from Another Job

The black ant drags a bread crumb
clear across the kitchen floor.

That’s something else I can’t do.

ESTELLE ETHEREGE:

Fifty

Today I am 50 years old. 50!

Coming up the hill from the meat market,
I can see that my house is in sad shape.
The front porch sags, a window is broken,
and the wind chips off flakes of paint.

51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56…70!

[from ALLIANCE, ILLINOIS, Spoon River Poetry Press, 1983]