Normandy by Brandon Shane

panoramic view, cliff clécy normandy, site paragliding-3371348.jpg


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

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