Poetry by Lee Patterson

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From I get sad
 
it’s dumb believing in sound. a light moan, wind against the sliding door, a good morning hymn from the finch in the birdhouse I never put up but somehow just appeared. I am leaving myself to find you. I am looking under graves, in the produce aisle of food lion, behind every closed door. I can only hear what I can’t see: a shooting in parkland, a shooting in jacksonville, an explosion followed by another explosion, parents yelling in whispers in their upstairs bedroom & then finally, a child falling asleep below. 

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Lee Patterson's poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in isacoustic*, Ethel Zine, Eunoia Review, and The Airgonaut. His chapbook, I get sad, is forthcoming from Ethel Zine in late 2019.