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Wendy E. Braun – This Existence

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Poetry

A Line From Neruda, “I do not love you except because I love you”

By: Wendy E. Braun

I do not love you except because I love you
I will not love another but do
because I am fickle and you are fleeting,
but not because you are on the coast of a rose water sea
where love dissolves from petals to pitch,
except in the instance of two passing ships
when you abandon your crew who cries,
“Do not give up the-” but you refuse to hear the rest.
I cannot say I know how it goes but I do not
love you except when standing on the moon’s
mountains of ash, catching your tide in the shift,
and I will blame the larks-leers for the poverty
determined that I must hide my love
in the renterfuge with pitch and ash above.

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The Glass Shattered Into A Universe

By: Wendy E. Braun

I sit in deep and solemn reveries
contemplating the bowl,
bowel and womb,
sucker for the void.

How many marbles
will divine a universe –
unsteadying the table
until the fall occurs –
break and fracture –
is there more?

Staring at the glossed surface
the beauty of porcelain
white corse beneath the crust.

You wonder at my fixation
knees curled, elbows flat
while you wait with a dustpan
ready to destroy the cosmos
spread before me.

I tell you, “I am God.”

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Although, time has passed

and seasons have come and gone,

like railway cars

whose late passenger stands

staring – wondering if it was in fact

a blown fuse that

stopped the clock and caused

the burnt toast –

he stands

on the same old porch,

surveying the need for yearly repairs,

while fingering a new cigarette

as the smoke swirls against his face

as his thoughts rise around

the what was,

the what never was,

the will she,

might she,

does she still, and

I think to myself

how thankful

I am that he

does not,

will not,

could not know

a damn thing –

something like smoke.

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