By Bruce McRae
 
 

Danger, Deep Water

At the bottom of the pool
lies the Beast of the Apocalypse,
the Bitch of Belsen,
the Angel of Verdun.

At the bottom of the pool
is grandma’s dentures,
a lucky dollar, a pocket-watch –
right twice a day.

The water is dark
as a child’s funeral,
black as a Monday mood,
thicker than old blood.

The pool is deep and icy,
its waters untouchable.
At the bottom is a sailor’s boot
and rusted belt buckle;

and something like eyes,
like eyes and a mouth screaming.
Something is moving.
Something is coming to the surface.
 
 

The Lighter Side Of Darkness

My guardian angel (borrowing) says
the universe is the sum of all its causes.
She says comedy is dead,
but thank God tragedy is funny.

As I’m sinking deeper
in the guacamole of my dissolution
my guardian angel says
no one can walk out on their own story.

The waters of the Earth are seething,
humans wringing with emotion.
Galaxies collide. Stars are being born,
that tramp gravity sucking for all her worth…

You mustn’t worry so much,
my guardian angel assures me.
I’ve got it all under control, she insists.
What’s your problem?
 
 

Bus Nowhere

Our journey began between the eyes.
For ages we traveled underground.
We traveled in sleep, our stomachs turning.
Everywhere was somewhere.

The hours collapsed like wooden houses,
our driver’s cap tilted at a jaunty angle,
his driving purely instinctual,
his uniform stained with Time’s absurdities,
the tune he whistled an unbearable shanty.

Some of the more reluctant passengers were weeping,
inconsolable faces lit by a luminous moon.
Others busied themselves, chatting like chickens,
studying foreign newspapers, eating the inedible.

And we’re traveling still, the stars gliding by,
what we call ‘the world’ struggling to exist,
a shared boredom our one extravagance.
Cities glower as we pass through them,
the whole Earth as quiet as a knife being drawn,
the tarmac zuzzing beneath us,
our destination forever uncertain.
 
 

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One Response to “Three Poems By Bruce McRae”


  1. […] McRae contributed three poems to the Autumn 2015 […]


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