Search

BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

Tag

love

Womannotated – Delicate

August 2nd, 2020

Delicate 

 

Some porcelain is missing from my cheek,

a hole you study while you think I sleep.  

In light of day it bothers you I’m weak. 

In darkness you find penetrable deep. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Delicate”

Riverbed Reunion by Abiodun Usman

Very soon,  I will embrace my wife again as a farmer embraces the rainy season, or, like a groom embraces his new bride. I will be drenched in water. A sorrow–hidden moment it will be, just like January 1st, 2005. That was the last day I saw her heavy dimples and swollen abdomen. 

Continue reading “Riverbed Reunion by Abiodun Usman”

[Again] / [To surge, rise] by Sue Scavo

suescavo[again][tosurgerise]1a

Continue reading “[Again] / [To surge, rise] by Sue Scavo”

“If the Dead Were in the Room I Would Say” by Jill Mceldowney

IMG_1841
Art by Moriah M. Mylod

When we started I thought 

                    —so that’s the way light tastes. 

I called light—future. 

 

            Now I feel its loss in my teeth, jaw, hands.  

My hair still smells like your hair.

I can’t think of my own body

                without thinking of yours, 

 

without thinking of swimming pools lit 

            by waves of lightning so close I can taste

their ozone and how there was a time when that taste was hope. 

 

How many dawns did I greet hoping 

            you had not stopped breathing in your sleep

 

or whatever we should call the blear

                between high and not high?

 

My love for you kept me awake—

       what little I knew then—

          watching over you, thinking that 

                if you died I would want to die too. 

 

I tried to love you like this: all or nothing

How many times did I shake you back to me? Do you remember 

 

what I said? I said

    here is my only life—take it. 

 

I mean if you’re breathing, stay with me. 

        I mean if you’re not

                stay with me. 

 

            If your hand is in my hair, leave it. 

If you are this hurt, 

            let it hurt. I can take it. Don’t ever

be done with me.

 

 

 

Jill Mceldowney is the author of the chapbook “Airs Above Ground” (Finishing Line Press).
She is a founder and editor of Madhouse Press. Her previously published work can be found in journals such a Prairie Schooner, Vinyl, Muzzle, Whiskey Island and other notable publications.

Three Poems by Kirby

The sweetest thing



Sweetest thing

that could happen

this day


a real reason to cry

Continue reading “Three Poems by Kirby”

Three Poems by Khashayar Mohammadi

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

Continue reading “Three Poems by Khashayar Mohammadi”

Two Poems by K. Eltinaé

Continue reading “Two Poems by K. Eltinaé”

A poem by Tom Snarsky

(Photograph by Tom Snarsky)

Samuel

Continue reading “A poem by Tom Snarsky”

Two poems by Sharanya

(Photograph by Sharanya)
Continue reading “Two poems by Sharanya”

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: