Excerpt for Poetry by Wendy Brumback, available in its entirety at Smashwords








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A scream rips through my throat, night terror again relived

No longer a battlefield around me

once, I dreamt of Glory

No longer for my country, only my desire to live

A silenced shot, a faint little pop and a river of red

I turn to my side, salty liquid now flowing instead.






































The House Cat

Protector of the land

Against creepy, crawly and winged things

Upon a makeshift throne of books

He reins over his domain.


Flopping on his belly

Nose in a dish

Substance provided for him

By the one he loves and protects.


He pulls apart the blinds,

And looks out into the great unknown

Open pet door a room away.

He Longs for the great outdoors


His eyes, symbols of his status

Yellow and a strip of black

Built in night vision goggles

Unseen slipping through the shadows that are cast.


He sneaks out into the night

Seeking out a present so rare

And drops the feather covered creature

Near the loved one he loves so dear.





















The Glass Plate

It was always just flat, simple and clear

The substance we built on it,

always eaten away

Always so fragile, so delicate and light

The heat of the moment,

Our foundation disappears.

So many pieces naked to the human eye,

remained unseen

So many others,

already swept away.

So many pieces to put back together

More than a lifetime worth to repair.







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