Unreal estate

My own thing is this very empty space,
Since nobody has claimed this as own

Like the dog on the leash claiming his ,
Shouting at a tree’s silences in corners.

The cricket claims his own in the bush
And around a forgot house on the lake,

Now a grand view of buzz- mosquitoes.
A poet is buzz- creature  who owns all

The piece of unreal estate at midnight.
Broken verse is his document of title.

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