Thomas Brush
All Hallow’s Eve
It’s just another rumor crossing the skyline, tin roof, the forgotten
Shame hovering over us like the Halloween masks
We thought were so clever.
It’s the sound of the creek
Overflowing with snow melt, ice. It’s the hard breathing
Of lovers, the sounds of release, the cries we’d like to take
With us if we could remember, ecstasy, its feeling, its heat.
Exactly.
The world was lost a long time ago. We’re just cleaning up
Salting the land with whatever new chemicals are offered,
Seeding the gulf with sludge, charging for everything
Since it’s all for sale: canyons, oceans, trees, soil, the last drive
Off the overpass.
Another holiday begins
Where my life leaves off: how the hours bring back the open road,
Open to anyone who wants to join me. Nothing fancy,
Not merlot or chardonnay, just a six
Of malt liquor to go.
I’ll take you with me,
But some other time. The trick is to give it all back
For another chance.
Thomas Brush is the author, most recently, of God’s Laughter (2018), Open Heart (2015) and Last Night (2012, winner of the Blue Lynx Prize), all from Lynx House Press. His poems have appeared in Fine Madness, Indiana Review, Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Quarterly West, Tar River Poetry Review, and many other journals and anthologies. He lives in Seattle, Wash.
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