Electricity
Continue reading “Two Poems by Bryan Borland”
thongs & sand
some days I wake
up hot & he
regrets he’s not w/me
& I turn &
drive & I won’t
tell you about my
drives for then I
would have to show
you
The Doll and Me
I hate the doll, its plumpy head,
its brunette swirls, its itsy cheeks,
its pout, its lashes, the uptight clothes,
marrowless arms, nerveless teeth,
its squeaking, the mess
it makes on the floor.
I want to detach the twee wee feet
and hammer it to the fence, drown it,
skewer it to the door, to say ‘this is what
has become of us’. Even naked
it makes me angry and afraid.
shame
it’s dark inside
which suits me
it hides my imperfections
the guilt upon my skin
the dread in my eyes
as they size me up
Femme Maison
You enter her through a tall, narrow doorway. This is impossible without an invitation. A hallway decorated
with red wallpaper welcomes you. In darker red: stems, leaves, stamens, petals. Voluptuous, monstrous
roses. You can hear a soprano singing upstairs. Once inside, you are free to roam at will.
Its All Greek to me
For B. D. M.
“The embrace of men”
I say
and you pirouette
behind the cash register
a new found bond at work
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 