The Issue
My parents knew I was different,
after I touched the stove,
knowing it burned,
and laughed at their concern,
when the first bit of blood
ran down my finger,
instead of screaming, as children do,
I tilted my head and squinted,
then, at nine, climbed the roof,
sat on summer tiles, unsure
what all the fuss was about,
and late at night,
became an owl,
perched on desiccated wood,
watching the world
finally at peace,
and they thought I was mad,
but really, was searching for solitude,
a steady stream of music, hum,
amidst their raging wars,
caught between shattered glass,
arguments battered the mind dull.
I awoke to an empty table,
the ocean not too far away, sailboats,
drifting towards the sea, mountains,
somewhere behind, stoic breeze,
an ordinary weekday & even the dog
was gone, days later, came smiles,
postcards; this dying marriage
revived in near immediacy,
and I cried a little in my den,
digging the dirt, trying to find
the burrow I was birthed in,
deep enough & moles
began their counterattack,
sunshine became labels
on plastic bottles;
sometimes my therapist
takes a deep breath
rubs her head
and sighs.
Brandon Shane is a poet, born in Yokosuka Japan. You can see his work in the Berlin Literary Review, Acropolis Journal, Grim & Gilded, Remington Review, The Marbled Sigh, Verdant Journal, Heimat Review, among many others. He would later graduate from Cal State Long Beach. Find him on Twitter @Ruishanewrites.
The Marbled Sigh 