Demons Poem

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You Cannot Be Free

By Wayne Jackson 1950-1989

You cannot be free
of demons
they say.
To be free of them you
must be dead


as sticks
as shit


and the star comes out again
Big
and
Big


I tilt my head back
look
at the ceiling
The reflected light
from the pool outside
form shadows
that flicker and turn


I smoke
cigarette after cigarette
and yearn and yearn
I pick a twisted fruit

The sun shines through
the bare
bare trees

Copyright © 1997 by Donald Wayne Jackson, All rights reserved

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