by Bruce McRae
The one in bed while the world dreams
itself into being. The one
who sleeps like a knocked-over urn,
moonlight scouring forests,
starlight blowing holes in winter’s airs,
darkness issuing its evictions and writs.
The one undressing after a long journey,
a seven-decade gadabout in life’s jalopy.
In one ear, the vox angelica.
In the other, wind behind a haunted hill.
In his heart, a tiny cataclysm,
the drums of war, the petitions for peace.
Another soul leaning against the tide,
bemused by its oceanic properties.
Former hellion. Prior Sumerian prince.
A child in the full drag of a man
The golem without text or purpose.
A light comes on in the mind’s back narrows.
It’s the darker side of midnight,
night reinventing the owl, planets skywriting,
and the one who’s searching for the proper word,
the latest utterance in his boney parable.
He opens the book of the hand
and reads what needs be written.
About the Author:
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with poems published in hundreds of magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. The winner of the 2020 Libretto prize and author of four poetry collections and seven chapbooks, his poems have been broadcast and performed globally.