Joshua Edwards
Albion

The woman sitting beside me
is so beautiful that I can

smell my girlfriend, and she
lives in Australia.  Whole days

go by without a single sin:
days of dogsigns, pigeon shit,

husks of the corn islands
lining my worn pockets.  If

love were a question, Iíd do
my homework, but itís a plant

and not all of us are born with
green thumbs.  In fact, Iím

told, most of us are born beneath
heat-lamps: screaming, resisting,

hoping that the doctor will
do something with that knife

other than cut the cord that
binds us to our motherís belly.

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