Fall 2009 / Issues / Poetry 2009 / Volume 40

Stop the Clock — Bruce McRae

I remember,

you were pointing a stick

at the moon,

It was the day before

the wolf bit you.

Near to that incident

with the toothpick.

You were with a girl

who rubbed brass for a living.

I remember,

you had a signed edition

of a box of bags

and were dating an ex-nun.

Around the time

of the break-out.

Sure, and as I recall,

you were studying wych elm,

or was it moonwort?

Either way,

that was the same summer

they moved the graveyard

into the secret forest.

Remember?

You had that awful sunburn

and my lung collapsed;

the very same day

as the mudslide…

Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

Makes you think

real hard.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s