[vc_row row_height_percent=”50″ override_padding=”yes” h_padding=”2″ top_padding=”3″ bottom_padding=”3″ back_image=”56863″ back_position=”center top” overlay_alpha=”0″ gutter_size=”3″ shift_y=”0″][vc_column column_width_percent=”100″ position_vertical=”bottom” style=”dark” overlay_alpha=”50″ gutter_size=”3″ medium_width=”0″ shift_x=”0″ shift_y=”0″ zoom_width=”0″ zoom_height=”0″ width=”1/1″][vc_custom_heading heading_semantic=”h1″ text_size=”fontsize-338686″ text_height=”fontheight-179065″ text_space=”fontspace-111509″ text_font=”font-762333″ text_weight=”700″ text_color=”color-xsdn” sub_reduced=”yes” subheading=”by Bruce McRae”]What Went Down With The Ship[/vc_custom_heading][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space empty_h=”2″][vc_column_text]Illustration of the Madonna breastfeeding.
A cute little bladder infection. Ectoplasm.
Burnished magnesium. Elongated fatwas.
A book of screams in a little red room.
Trigonometry for mummies. Hoe-downs.
A knife balanced on a knife-blade.
Walls of ghost-breaths. Mystic sensibilities.
Pillow-books and phatic salutations.
Swordplay behind the School of Dance.
The desert of the real. Light’s threshold.
The first and last of polyester newspapers.
An entire set of ant-dreams in polished amber.
The sudden realization of a universal truth.
A kiss on fire. The meaning of cancer.
Shadow-shadows, once cloistered in attics.
A series of teeth crying out for a head.
Miserable buttons. The breasts of Atlantis.
A rebel yell with toothache. Indelible bunnies.
The diaphanous domain of melancholia.
Spare savant-whistles. Pennies that sweat.
Throttled soldiers’ breaths. Bone booties.
Birthmarks, and a comic’s monologue.
Trophies for bowling. Torn spectrographs.
Thirteen bullets and world’s smallest glum.
The skull-music of handgun logic.
Thermodynamic miracles. Stygian gloom.
Aural karma. A warm impermanence.
Chaotic streetwear. Vials of oxen-blood.
Trade winds captured in a blue bottle.
One monosyllable, in Santa Claus mode.
A recipe for tears. Electromagnetic slippers.
Shot glasses in love with toxic empathy.
Dinosaurian scarf and mittens. Wing-nuts.
Brutal thunderclouds. Seasick serpents.
Essence of Runnymede. Broken cattle.
User-friendly totalitarian regimes. Pixels.
The dim recall of every passing breath.
Some old skin sloughed from this very hand.
The darkeyed junco and varied thrush.
A burning shortlist, as if a stone candle.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column column_width_percent=”100″ align_horizontal=”align_center” overlay_alpha=”50″ gutter_size=”3″ medium_width=”0″ mobile_width=”0″ shift_x=”0″ shift_y=”0″ z_index=”0″ width=”1/1″][vc_empty_space][vc_separator sep_color=”color-184322″ el_width=”30%”][vc_empty_space][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column column_width_percent=”100″ align_horizontal=”align_right” overlay_alpha=”50″ gutter_size=”3″ medium_width=”0″ mobile_width=”0″ shift_x=”0″ shift_y=”0″ z_index=”0″ width=”1/3″][vc_single_image media=”57516″ media_width_percent=”100″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_column_text]Originally from Niagara Falls Ontario, Pushcart-nominee Bruce McRae is a musician who has spent much of his life in London and British Columbia. He has been published in hundreds of periodicals and anthologies. His first book, The So-Called Sonnets, is available from the Silenced Press website or via Amazon books. To hear his music and view more poems visit his website: www.bpmcrae.com.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
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