So much depends

cement mixer & white chicken
on whether it was
a red wheelbarrow
or an orange cementmixer

on whether it was
glazed with rain water
or shaded
from the setting sun

on whether there were
several white chickens
or just the one, escaped
from the neighbour’s yard

on whether it was
early twentieth century
industrial America
or rural Spain in 2012

on whether it was
William Carlos Williams
who saw the scene
or me.

For the chicken in question,
much more depends
on whether my cats find her
before the neighbour does.

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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