Brandon Shane | 2 Works

Little Ghost

We slept where thousands were murdered,
her grandmother quietly visited a shrine
dedicated to “comfort women,” she was
one of the last alive and I wondered if
I should feel any less guilt
after she and her compatriots died
my answer was no
but clearly it was the case
men take on lighter fabric
as the dawn is no longer a reminder
of survival but another day to visit
an ancestral tombstone. She handed
me a few charms and held me
between her brown iris and sirens
of her pupils her daughter took my hand
we walked over trails past
the village and homes became
abandoned as trees long fell vines
grew over roofs and a little further
the smell of ferns petrichor mist
we waded up a hill and no one
was there but a few cats
moss capped posts. Soon she
took out a pack of cigarettes
and I pulled plum wine
on the highest branch a crow
widened its wings like the arms
of Christ and she grabbed a hard
part of my thigh kissed my neck
and all the crows were gone
“your grandmother acts weird
around me,” she loosened my jeans
and I looked at the canopy as she
worked unsure if I could escape
sex and death imagining it was
Mary’s saliva or Christ’s virginity
how I had brought here
things of no intention and was
no-one who I said I was,
swallowing a fly later that night
I kept outside her bedroom window
wanting to be stared at
as if to say slit my tendons
remove all I have no choice of
but she told me to shut my eyes
and dance with her
in our dreams.

Elephant Man

There are children in the Serengeti
walking along golden plains
ignoring the elephants.

My father was young in Pennsylvania
and talked a lot about the forests
how trains don’t hit boys by accident.

There is a couple kissing
on a park bench
losing their cigarettes.

I think a lot about trenches
and orange poppies
the anonymity of flower-death.

Sometimes annuals are planted
before last year
had a chance to die.

I have killed six butterflies
three white hummingbirds
one ugly wren
hopping along sticks.

Since she left

I take wild sunflowers
drooped in shade
weight them with little wings
bend their stems
towards lost light.