BREATHING
By Bryan McCormack BreathingThe father’s breathing steadied
to a light,
sputtering hum.
Outside his door, the son
listened carefully, ingesting the hum’s
vibrations, producing another sputter
in his eardrums.It was like this before, when the son was a boy,
and it continues its elevated, indeterminate path.Every night, the vigil took
place to ensure the father continued
breathing.
Had the hum ceased, the son had
no clear plan
only that he, in his own way, willed
the moment
through his mind’s power
to imagine,
replicate,
and cease breathing.The electricianThe electrician is
supposed to come at
11:00—
The toggles
don’t work.Powerplant
Transmission lines
Transformer.The leg bone is connected to the
Knee bone.
The switch loop is connected to the
Fuse box.The charge goes round
Go round
The circuit breaker.How much radiation,
Do you suppose,
Electricity gives off?Put a tuning fork in it—How many
Watts, voltage?
The gauge reads Hz.
Enough to make my bones
glow, incandescent marrow. Bronze BellsTiered hilltops
Etch out the landscape waiting
for the bronze bell.A procession walks over green
Grass towards a craftsman’s arch.Rolling hills spin
Towards the arc,
An escalator’s motor
Keeping them moving.The more they strut up
The hills, the longer the procession’s
Tail weaves, side to side,
Like an excited and nervous dog.The tail rattles and a white dress
Floats against the summer’s
Breeze. Gently, she hovers,
Waiting to enter the arc of
Splicing hemispheres. Aerosolroses bloom
In middle American
Households
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Stave offCO2, carbon emissions,
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for easy access, place your
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my neck and pop the cap.Promotional marketing solutions
to problems that haven’t even been created yet.A slash-
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knapsack and
RFID blocking
sunglasses to protect
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recommended for safe travel.
To prove that you aren’t a robot,
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Aerosolroses bloom
Across middle America Holus BolusDepth is only one surface
Removed—
Wind modulates into the foyer’s
Unbalanced foundation;
Further still
Into the fireplace’s
Alcove and out
The chimney in reverse,
Because it wants to do it again.The dimensions don’t compute,
Top or bottom, but the depth,
The depth removes surface
In undulations because
It wants to do it again.The hand that wavers,
The foot that stalls—
They want to do it again. About the Author: A native of Tampa, Florida, Bryan McCormack is a graduate of Eckerd College and the University of South Florida. He currently teaches English at Randolph Community College in Asheboro, North Carolina. |
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