Normandy
Picking you up aside abandoned asphalt
rusted telephone booths with glass walls
old western motels & their chipped wood
while mother was bound to her wheelchair &
father patiently awaited your return from his casket
tears flooded the cemetery from below
bloodshot eyes & veins tougher than scarabs
you grabbed my wallet from atop the counter
and became a poltergeist on the loose
embodying a passion no words could ever sway &
then a flash; mother stands in a miracle at your funeral
followed by the buckling of her knees & wailing fall
mourning a son & the ruins of melancholic dreams
since that arid hospital bed & doctor’s telepathic stare
a lighthouse with your silhouette has begun to strobe
and there I am
waving my dimming lantern in coastal fog
& just as I touch the sand of Mont Saint Michel
the tide rises & takes me away.
Brandon Shane is an alum of California State University, Long Beach, where he majored in English. He’s pursuing an MFA while working as a writing instructor and substitute teacher. You can see his work in Acropolis Journal, Grim & Gilded, All Existing Magazine, Bitterleaf Books, Remington Review, Salmon Creek Journal, BarBar Literary Magazine, Discretionary Love, among others. Find him on Twitter @Ruishanewrites
