Quart Size Blue Mixing Bowl
John McKernan

Half full
Of dried blood

Pass me a new battery please
The light in this room
Is peeling itself from the walls

That's how
I understood
Emily Dickinson
And her war with God

I also understood
The quick fists of Pat Harrington
To my right eye & my first sip of blood
Then Jerry Sibert's knee to my groin
Teaching me several new languages

I learned early
How to stare at a summer sunset
For three hours
And not flinch
As daily darkness entered this world
Quiet as a hammer lying on a pillow

Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.

Want to comment on this story? Click Here to go the Literary Review Discussion Forum (for the subject, enter "Comment on poem Quart Size Blue Mixing Bowl")