★ ★ ★ ★


When Flame Is Blessing And Curse

Candles are lit, then extinguished.
Graces, both cold and warm,
nestle there in the quiet mathematics
behind the thermometer.
Breaths are formed, then frozen.
Radiator slow whistles in time
with her uneven dream breaths.

Across Winter’s Window

The tiniest of mercies
flushes red like the cardinal
across winter’s window;

leaving you unsure
where it came from,

why it was there,

or if you even saw it properly.
Despite your best intention,

you leave an ungrateful
smudge on the window,
tracing its sudden arc.

Two Human, One Dog

Concrete havoc, sidewalk snow,
three sets of footprints.

Water-proofed footwear and
short, sensible steps.

Heat from stoves forms foggy
angels of grace

in the kitchen windows
along the streets.

Steve Brightman lives in Akron, Ohio with his wife and their parrot. He has one full-length collection of poetry titled, The Wild Gospel Of Careening And Other Sermons From The Rumble Strip (Red Orchid Press). He firmly believes in only two seasons: winter and baseball.

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