Monday, March 28, 2016

28.3.16 (#87) After Kevin Brophy by Myron Lysenko

That’s not a small girl running around the back yard,
throwing leaves about and squealing - it’s the wind.

That’s not the moon on top of the slide holding its breath
and looking to see how far down it is – it’s a street light.

That’s not a star shining down towards the Memorial Cross
on top of Mount Macedon – it’s a passenger jet.

That’s not a dishcloth wiping away the water
from the dripping coffee mugs – it’s a cloud at the window.

That’s not a letter to a friend in the outback
written on a scrap of paper - it’s just his lonely address.


  1. nice stuff! I liked the surrealism

    1. Thank you very much. I hope I can continue to expand on this draft.

  2. I like it. Wish I'd written it myself.

    1. Perhaps you did, Kevin. It was certainly inspired by your poem The Sky Polished Blue.


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