Walking the stone beach at dawn I see a small cliff
and make out, between the coalescing and yanking waves,
your face in the rock. Love watches from a lighthouse, and blinks.
And again, in the Check bakery's pastry case
among the sweetbreads, a loose cherry on the parchment
is your mouth. Love rots in me like a tooth, I have known such sweetness.
Over the hill, the old house sits and it is you
on the swing, holding your guitar like a child,
singing to it like a child. It is only morning, and already you are everywhere.
About the Author
Bronmin Shumway is a writer and poet based in Chicago, IL. Her work has appeared in X Magazine, The Green Muse, LanguageandCulture.net, Illya's Honey, and various other literary magazines and journals.
My main focus in art is color, design and composition. I have a true passion for color as the art subject itself - how colors fit together, how they communicate with each other within the design, how certain colors combined with one another evoke a certain feeling - this is paramount in my work. I am a social worker, artist and poet living in Austin, TX. Read More...