One Poem by Michael Igoe

Without Due Cause    

Without a fixed set of preferences,                                                                                                            the day is shaped by the powerful.                                                                                                                     I continued to treasure an overcoat                                                                                                                            embroidered with a floral stitching                                                                                                                      completely gutted by sharp knives.                                                                                                                            In some ways we might wind up                                                                                                                      with everything we ever wanted                                                                                                                                                                                  but they soon fade at the source.  
                                                                                                                            II.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
The body gives you ample warnings                                                                                                                                  it grows colder in the nether regions.                                                                                                                                                                                                       We are living in changing times:                                                                                                                          on the day of exile to the island                                                                                                                  we celebrated St. Stephen’s Day.                                                                                                                            A lantern was placed next to the window                                                                                                     curtains in the drawing room, two by two                                                                                                                            muffled voices thickened the atmosphere.                                                                                                                voices                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Making a mockery of freedom:                                                                                                                        at their command you walked                                                                                                                over the black masked waters.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Michael Igoe–city boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston area. Works appear in journals and anthologies (available at amazon.com, lulu.com, barnesandnoble.com). National Library of Poetry (Owing Mills MD) Editors Choice 1997 Best of the Net nomination 2023. poetry-in-motion.org