Poem: Tim J Brennan

a good day to die

(i)
is more than wood
burning, is more
than living beyond
the chippewa river
where drums beat,
letters are written
to life long friends,
& breezes cross
water as softly as
skin beneath
a mother’s wrist


(ii)
on friday i wanted her
to be kneaded into bread,
set near a warm window
sill with a damp towel,
allowing her to rise
and feed me once more


(iii)
by sunday she couldn’t see
me anymore; it was raining
and i watched my words,
pale as newsprint, running
together. being no longer
useful, i folded them carefully,
& threw them away


(iv)
a blue carnation,
white chrysanthemums
myself withering in place
of last rites, until finally,
a well deserved day off


~ Tim Brennan can be reached at this email address.