GO TO HELL, SHE SAID AND I WROTE A LIST OF HER INSTRUCTIONS
I came back to a place I no longer belong,
a cotton mouthed sky my brother and I
cut from the same yard of grass,
the country god made for us
hard scrabbled and scramble egged
frustrated with fusion, soft and easy,
every object of our affection in-between,
no one left I wish to talk to,
a click of feathers and hollow bones,
and I am not among the living
as I wish to be nor among the dead.
It’s never cold enough outside.
A corpse takes the place of a corpse.
Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published throughout the small and literary presses. His work has appeared in The Café Review, American Letters and Commentary, Skidrow Penthouse, Xavier Review, Hotel Amerika, Free Lunch, Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Pacific Review, Poetrysuperhighway.com and others. In addition, he has nine poetry chapbooks including The Shooting Gallery (Samidat Press, 1987), Poems from the Body Bag (Ommation Press, 1988), A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), What Stone Is (Fractal Edge Press, 2005), I Was a Teacher Once (Ten Page Press, 2011), Firestorm: A Rendering of Torah (Camel Saloon Press, 2012), The Possibility of Sky and Hell: From My Suicide Book (White Knuckle Press, 2013) and The Katy Trail, Mid-Missouri, 100 Degrees Outside and Other Poems (Kind of Hurricane Press, 2013). He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011).