Bundle-of-lint, get back into your cubbyhole,
into your linen drawer, your kettle of fish heads.
To the seeping wound from whence thou came.
get back down into your hole of holes.
Return to the smirking mouth of the salamander.
To the bottom of your olive jar.
To the glove compartment of a burning sedan.
exit with the staged play’s walk-on mob.
Back to your shallow-dug grave in the woods.
Return to your shoebox hidden under the bed.
To your gouged hill scarred with aircraft debris.
Go, and never trouble this existence again.
And may your shadow never cross another’s.
Sundown, which is a book closing,
which is the last page turned
in a story unwillingly relinquished,
starlings crowding cloudbanks to the east,
the west glowering, so proud of itself
and the great works the Earth has accomplished.
When one moment catches sight of another,
short-winded from breathless passages,
the mind idly strolling about, wandering
toward the swirling mists we term ‘pre-history’,
seeing there the old made new,
long before the slang of our time
and its ream of ambiguities, written in blood
and on stone, their messages sealed always.
Pushcart-nominee Bruce McRae is a Canadian musician with over 800 publications, including Poetry.com and The North American Review. 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, or ‘TheBruceMcRaeChannel’ on Youtube.