Prescience The sky’s a graveyard full of ghosts and fossils. No one’s dared to bury barley; it hasn’t rained in thirty days. Neither almanac nor bible tells how to predict an ending. I thought I understood the lifespan of a star, but I was wrong: their deaths are expanding, infinite; I’m the thing inconsequential, impermanent. […]Read more "Prescience"
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a Pushcart nominee with over a thousand poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle, and the North American Review. His books are The So-Called Sonnets (Silenced Press), An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy (Cawing Crow Press) and Like As If (Pskis […]Read more "Understood"
We buried your grandfather’s body in a graveyard in old Virginia. I stood somber in a cheap black dress bought for the funeral, my eyes downcast, not belonging. In the nursing home we carried out boxes, and the elderly gathered like dry leaves, rustling, winter-haired. I wanted to sing to them, but instead I walked […]Read more "A Leaf Falls"