Brendan McCallum

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The Mary Rose,

There was little time, even less warning,
when an anger of ocean smashed
her portside and in a blink
the mother-of-all broke her like a stick,

Watching Uncle Fester,

they place him ornamentally between the telly
and the fire, like a tall sideboard with meat in
and no doors, he isn’t bothered, more
furniture than else, his nip alone spoiling

Up Close And Personal Vith A Slug.

Once I thought, what mind or smile
could ever appreciate such an ill-to-touch
creature as this, and who, if anyone
could have permissioned this between-the-toes

All I Know Of Death,

                                          With life after death
                                             being a possible illusion,
                                          to say least, a topic
                                             shrouded in confusion,

In The Name Of God.

Knives of glass
stealth from a dusty core,
impaling, en-trailing,
and de-railing lives,


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8/4/2021 5:11:37 PM #