Art and poetry on red shoes and rapture.
Love and Coffee
on the theme of rapture
I was invited
I remember,
Accepted
Into you again, and
Again, always first
Into your smile,
Then mud-spattered in
Tart tart pale sweet
Watery drags of tired
Love, tiered on down plants,
Down blankets and tear drops
On your June balcony,
Hanging on a telephone
Wire, a memory buzz of
Coffee alone in
A tired scarf while
You turn towards
An intersection,
A receding rail, training
A fading exhaustion.
My fingers, I think,
The left ring finger,
Hurt at the
Distal phalange.
Stiff and bent
For decades.
I was
Thinking of your car,
The pink engine
With its thin chrome
And motherly exhaust. I
Was thinking of your
Lilies, underfed
In their office corner
And I was thinking
Of your brown basket,
A threadbare wicker,
Burning in its hidden
Flourescent shadow.
I was thinking about
Baking in your kitchen,
With its flavored garage
And rising goldfish,
Watching the timer
Expire and listening
To that hideous fountain
Babble
As it packs for winter
Elsewhere.
Author Biography
Mark Brunke lives and works in Seattle, Washington.


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