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| Featured Poet -
Bronwyn Haynes |
Bronwyn E. Haynes has been published in
the Quick and Dirty Poets' Up and Under Review; Compass Rose;
the Mad Poets Review; the Edison Literary Review; Baby Clam
Press; and the Delaware Valley Poets’ Anthology. She was winner
of the Roanoke College Wise Poetry Contest in 2007, and was
subsequently published in the Roanoke College literary magazine,
On Concept’s Edge. Most recently, her work appeared in the
Chatham University Literary Magazine, Minor Bird. She currently
serves as vice-president of the Burlington County Poets, and
most recently was thrilled to become a member of the Quick and
Dirty Poets.
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On Sorrow
How does one write sorrow?
It is not exactly bar-napkin
or business-card material--
it is too deep, too wide,
to be written on such small surfaces.
It must be deep enough that if a reader
leaps in, there will be the sensation
of drowning--but once settled,
feet flat on the bottom,
it will be only neck-deep.
It must be heavy enough to imply
forever; to cause the reader
to contemplate how it would be
to carry this weight always,
but not so heavy that it cannot be moved.
Most importantly, it must breathe--
not as if it were vibrantly alive,
or as if it could fly away,
but instead as if it were dying.
It should flutter against the reader's palm
as if it might perish at any moment.
(previously published in Compass Rose)
Tenor
he sings loud and long
the varied octaves of my name,
and will not give me his.
seeking saviour, I have found
him: the antithesis of grace.
this is love’s antecedent
rich and raw and open
as a split orange;
peel: consumption and cure
and I love him.
(previously published in Baby Clam Press)
Peeling Love
Beneath my fingers, you
are like fruit: my orange,
rind-bright and pressing
against your rough binding.
I dig in my fingers, release
a spray of scent, and fling
the peel away in thick pieces,
impatient and hungry.
As I thought: beneath
the bitter skin your flesh
is tangy-sweet.
Cure
For Melanie Almeder
Write him away. He will conform
to poetry, to the confines of line, of page;
let it flow until you cannot think
of another word to describe him,
his eyes, his hands, his effect on you.
For the pain, drink only sweet things,
to overcome the bitterness inside.
Never too strong; too sweet is not a concern.
Wash every article of clothing,
vacuum every rug, wipe all the counters
and floors, ceilings and walls.
Neglect no corner, forget no banister;
complete the cleansing with a bath
that is too hot:
burn him away, sweat him out of your body.
You must sleep naked, then,
and the sheets on your bed
must be satin, scented with lavender.
Exposure
(to the X-Ray nurse)
Your hands feel along the curve
of my pelvis, force my spine straight.
You search out my flaws and capture them
in black and white, as if they truly are that simple.
I am all bones, laid out on the table
beneath your studious gaze and determined hands.
Spiteful, I wish I could do the same to you:
feel out your hidden imperfections,
show the defects you’ve folded against your bone,
bright-white against the black of your body.
(previously published in the Up and Under Review) |
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