crushing red (clot to page)

crushing red.jpg

in part pixelated pane
it’s just phantom
half i see

other, queer charm
butcher, me

with shame’s shank
pressed to flat of
blistered back

more itchy than

glacial fresh

don’t dare breathe,
don’t react-

fever sun scratch
moon is coming

on prick of sudden
red crush gushing

© Anthony Gorman 2018

image pixabay: morenaclara62





25 weeks strong

This poem is about my daughter, who was born as the surviving twin at 25 weeks , weighing just 1lb 3 oz.  She was in the NICU of the Ottawa General Hospital for four months following her birth.  It was 2 weeks before I was allowed to hold her.  I watched her resuscitated twice from cardiac arrest.  She had bleeding on her brain and hole in her heart.  The blood on her brain, miraculously reabsorbed and her heart was mended through surgery at a year and a half of age.  She is now 8 years old, solid and healthy…. I don’t often provide context for my poetry, but in this case, I felt it necessary.

25 weeks 2

she, brutality’s wonder dawn-
emerging bird-sized and bruised 
in cesious hues-

sulking pond waters, baby still,
still, wisps of warrior breath
breach pin holes in dewy, crystal head

lightning’s spark, spikes
new life blood

universe’s latent mercy, surges
bold through veined contains
of garnet flood

© Anthony Gorman 2018

photo pixabay: geralt

photo pixabay: arutina



next to next stop

clay doll diesel tourist
vamps with tense

rear to the lean guy
with chiseled hair
and cocksure, inward thing

stained fabric, cold plastics
of the bulletproof glass

siren song’s, off-key
civet mist swayed
all the same

despair’s damp
band-aid stamp

© Anthony Gorman 2018

photos: pixabay