by Brad Rose

Candle, photo by Mercedes Bosquet
Photo by Mercedes Bosquet@Unsplash

You know, that way of talking to yourself that can be dangerous. The way a blade is sharp or a pistol’s loaded. Since the last eviction, I don’t own any furniture. I don’t have an address. The newspaper said, Some members of the victims’ families fainted when they heard the jury’s findings. You’re innocent until you’re proven guilty. Close your eyes. Listen. Everyone is their own music. The sun’s fading light, cold as a knife, the end of day, a smothered flame cowering in the candle’s slender throat.

Brad Rose

Brad Rose is the author of five collections of poetry and flash fiction and the forthcoming volume, WordInEdgeWise. His blog is




2024-Feb-29 23:57

Nothing quite like a Brad Rose piece to get your brain sparks sparking. And I heartily agree that:

Everyone is their own music.

Nicely done!

2024-Mar-01 22:02

I will never look at a waning candle the same again - it's a skill also to be so stunningly effective in so few words. Well done.

2024-Mar-02 23:13

Many thanks to you.