Candle
2024-Mar-01 • Brad Rose
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 https://bradrosepoetry.com/blog