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  • Writer's pictureMarías at Sampaguitas

Poetry by John Grey


Long before evening,

he imagines himself at your door,

exchanging greetings with

a brass knocker,

the number 32.

In fact,

he’s been all day

on that top step,

looking around for his hands,

discovering them

deep down in his pockets,

nervously jabbed by house keys.

Neighbors look at him suspiciously.

A cop car rolls by,

slows, almost stops

before moving on.

They’re all sure he’s a criminal.

They just can’t identify the crime.

Only you can invite him in,

set them straight.

But it’s only midday.

You don’t expect him until seven.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Soundings East, Dalhousie Review and Connecticut River Review. Latest book, “Leaves On Pages” is available through Amazon.

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