невыносимая яркость
the sun calls me
on my mobile
to tell me you have died
she works in mysterious ways
her voice so changed
to sound just like your brother
the first cosmonaut
to swim out into space
noted the unbearable brightness
look, my shadow
seared into the sidewalk
to mark the hour
This poem appears in
A Flower Room
© Brendan Bonsack
October 2019