Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

This Was Once a Love Poem

Go on; enjoy yourself. I’m not returning
home this winter. I don’t want to make the mistake
of another year, Missouri a long way off,
full of superstition, omens, and witch’s meat.
I’ll miss the ripeness of soil, the grazing river,
wild turkeys, possums in the abandoned car,
the red fox living beneath the house, voles
camped in the hills. Some things need endings
more than others, superstition a heavy master.
Splitting poles, spitting on the broom, Sankofa birds,
pockets hanging inside out near running water,
the fourth floor, a sneeze without a bless you,
how the new year begins at midnight.
 
 
Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published throughout the small and literary presses. His work has appeared in The Café Review, American Letters and Commentary, Poetrysuperhighway.com, and others. In addition, he has nine poetry chapbooks including I Was a Teacher Once (Ten Page Press, 2011) and Firestorm: A Rendering of Torah (Camel Saloon Press, 2012). He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011). Brownstein taught elementary school in Chicago’s inner city (he is now retired), but he continues to study authentic African instruments, conducts grant-writing workshops for educators, designs websites and records performance and music pieces with grants from the City of Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs, the Oppenheimer Foundation, BP Leadership Grants, and others.

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Categories: Poetry, Themed, Unfortunately I can't love you

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2 replies

  1. I love the richness of your language here!

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