The unborn sons
and daughters
wasted in alley ways
and by-the-hour hotel rooms,
sometimes seem better off
than those who make
it some of the way,
some of the way
being far enough
to know what comes
at the end, or even
before that, a dozen
endings, more, coming
before that final end.
By Edward Lee
Edward Lee’s poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen, The Blue Nib and Poetry Wales. His poetry collections include A Foetal Heart, Bones Speaking With Hard Tongues, To Touch The Sky And Never Know The Ground Again and The Heart As Dust Lost In The Wind. He also makes musical noise under the names Ayahuasca Collective, Orson Carroll, Lego Figures Fighting, and Pale Blond Boy. His blog/website can be found at https://edwardmlee.wordpress.com

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