Brenda Shaughnessy

(Okinawa)

Big Game - Poem by Brenda Shaughnessy

—after Richard Brautigan's "A Candlelion Poem"

What began as wildfire ends up
on a candle wick. In reverse,
it is contained,

a lion head in a hunter's den.
Big Game.

Bigger than one I played
with matches and twigs and glass
in the shade.

When I was young, there was no sun
and I was afraid.

Now, in grownhood, I call the ghost
to my fragile table, my fleshy supper,
my tiny flame.

Not just any old, but THE ghost,
the last one I will be,

the future me,
finally the sharpest knife
in the drawer.

The pride is proud.
The crowd is loud, like garbage dumping

or how a brown bag ripping
sounds like a shout
that tells the town the house

is burning down.
Drowns out some small folded breath

of otherlife: O that of a lioness licking her cubs to sleep in a dream of
savage gold.

O that roaring, not yet and yet
and not yet dead.

So many fires start in my head.

Topic(s) of this poem: game


Comments about Big Game by Brenda Shaughnessy

  • Susan Williams (4/20/2016 5:54:00 PM)


    This one is going to take some clear-headed thinking and I am growing weary of this bouncing, jumping, conputer and/ or site to continue today. I will read later- tomorrow perhaps. (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Edward Kofi Louis (4/20/2016 2:14:00 AM)


    Sounds like shout! Thanks for sharing this poem with us. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 8, 2015



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