TWO POEMS by Bill Brown • Cleaver Magazine
TWO POEMS by Bill Brown OPENINGS Blessed is the sick day. / Blessed are things that open / for no reason. –Lorraine Doran Let’s say a brother’s left hand opens and closes on his coffee cup. A lover’s face opens when someone enters a room. The blessed day, being sick, needs such nurturing, such openings— a crocus blossom in the snow, a door of an abandoned house, a coffin without a corpse. All open— not like a switch blade, fast and deliberate, but like a heart valve, its blood nutrient rich— so the frozen crocus will re-blossom, the abandoned house welcome stray cats and phoebes, and the coffin, as always, awaits to be filled like the blessed day waits the unexpected so long it becomes expected, a birdfeeder surprised by a chickadee that grubs the bottom for the last seed. A C-section births the next day, pulled from the night … chop! chop! read more!
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