Dead season

by Mike Boyle

Sister's lamps light
living room. I don't
see her spinning off,
I see her bringing
lamps.

A small army of the
dead in my belly right
now. Crucifix father
had in WW2 swings
from sister's lamp &

a photo I'll never share
of him 1917. He's a boy,
beaming. I am making
nachos. I am looking for
that house. It

sometimes feels
my hands are on fire.


*Mike's blog:
http://bohobait.blogspot.com/