by Juleigh Howard-Hobson

A gated street, with lawns and yards and trees.
Dual pane glass windows (facing north). A place
So exactly what I never dreamt to own
Once. But now is mine. Oh yes, mine. My ho
With my leased Rovers in the drive. My space;
My American Dream Come True. Is it me,
Or do these dreams we all have seem to pale
Against the deeper, truer, dreams we’ve sold
Away with our free will and our free time?
Settling here. Accepting that. “At least it’s mine”:
This plastic thing, this ersatz choice. I’m told
Some people still don’t buy the fairy tales.
They live in older homes in depressed spots
And laugh at all our haves while they have not.

© 2006 by Juleigh Howard-Hobson








About the Author

Born in England, and raised in Australia and the US, Juleigh Howard-Hobson won the prestigious Australian Returned Serviceman's League's ANZAC DAY Award for poetry (1980), and also holds a gold medal for poetry from the MacArthur Arts Festival (Australia). She is the editor of the Arets Vakreste Boker 2004 award winning Norwegian-press literary collection Undertow. Her poetry has appeared in thehypertexts.com, The Old Heathen's Almanac 2006, Flipside, On The Wing, The Australian Women’s Weekly, Seven Cups of Coffee, Macquarie University Arena (Australia), Focus, MotherLoad, Saczine, 9 to 5, odinsgift. com, Hipmama Magazine and Idunna.


All content copyright © 2006-12 by ShatterColors, unless otherwise indicated. All rights reserved.
Reproduction of material, in whole or in part, from any ShatterColors Literary Review
pages without written permission of the copyright owners is strictly prohibited.
Site designed and built by Robert Scott Leyse, with input and logo by Granville Papillon,
and wallpaper by Edward Haven from two of his paintings.