Brendan McCallum Poems

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,
...

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
...

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

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

                                               You lie broken,
                                               a contradiction,
                                             safe and resting,
...

not healthy they said, morbid even,
going back there every year,
I disagreed, not morbid at all,
more a comforting ritual, I said,
...

His deathbed
was somewhere between
inch plate and a stolen sand,
not yet aware of his predicament
...