Miriam C. Jacobs
In horror flicks attics are bad enough,
but basements, where nightmare lives,
They are what’s at bottom.
I’ve circled this house looking for answers
and passed the door to these stairs downward
a hundred times, no, a … view
Madeleine St. Romain
There was no room.
I put the box down under the seat and sat down hurriedly,
Pretending that I was still at home and still happy.
Sitting on a hard chair in the cold,
Waiting to get in a word.
It is Sunday night and we are standing on the porch after I’ve put our son to bed, saying goodbye, see you in a couple of weeks, etc. It’s the often perfunctory end to dropping our son back off with her, but it’s gotten warmer over the years. At first … view
The Cruel Radiance of What Is
Die knowing something:
eggs (any style),
twenty shoes, standing in a row,
a factory chimney seen
through the iron work of a railroad bridge,
the eye of a fly enlarged 2,000 times,
the interior of a watch.
Stare, pry, listen, … view