Volume 2 Number 1 • Spring 2010

Steve Brightman

At the Water's Edge

One hot summer day, with nothing to do,
I explored that fragile last taboo and dove
into ravenous, glorious, wretched excess,
falling speechless before the heavens.

I spent a necklace of days in
fluorescently lit rooms bent with prayer
until words bobbed to the surface,
covered in silt.

I picked them out
one at a time
and cleaned them off.

Instinctively, I knew
I had to be careful
at the water's edge.

Clouds camouflaged the
white-bellied hunger
of the red-tailed hawk
circling above me.

Steve Brightman is 1/2 cup dijon and whole grain mustard, 1/2 cup honey, 1/4 cup ground coffee, and 1/4 cup deep dark molasses. He lives in Kent, OH, with his pionus parrot and thinks that PNC park is the finest cathedral in North America. His poems have been featured in Pudding House, Origami Condom, My Favorite Bullet and he was included in the Ohio Bicentennial Anthology titled "I Have My Own Song For It: Modern Poems about Ohio".

top of page
to fiction
to poetry
to flash
to irregulars
to interview