Turn Here -- Maureen Owen

'the place where the ducks walk on the fish'

Turn here       this must be Edinboro
the porches and long lawns   are pale in this blurry mist
I actually haven't seen what birds soak up the sky
Or  restless forms that gather and relax the view
it's empty as a cake of soap      perched on a shower ledge
O Wet       now beaded torrents thud&roll the parking lot
small bursts of forest soar straight up       & sudden where the
houses stop     small farms pump at open gaps of    new stubble

otherwise it's goldenrod & chicory    red clover & that flea like daisy
lots of opportunity for striding      or singing to the cornfields
to be itinerant      squawking so    & drenched with tofu days
pristine as unused chalk   I thought I'd take that walk to visualize
what I could be by bushy ditches overrun with clumps of orange &  ochre
O Water tower   marking where the town begins    & Knight's video store