Brooke L. Davis

Death stares out at us through the frame with broken glass atop the casket. The remembered face bright and alive, smiles at us a light,...

Each day we try in vain to spit out the bitter taste of our ordinary lives and fail. Instead, we choke and drown on our own vinegar, too...

We all die, haunted by the chances we did not take, the alternative life, unlived. The iron bed rusts from the love we did not make in...

In your absence, I explore the soaked beaches alone and watch the skies drench the cottage roof with tinkling music. In your absence, I...

During the long hot days, stone-faced angels stand guard over their monuments until sunset. They watch as the mourners walk slowly...

We are all small boats cutters, sloops, schooners bobbing in personal safe harbors. Beyond the spit end, jagged piled rocks, the...

As I shaved her head what remained of her hair fell softly, like her tears. After the treatments, it had fallen out in clumps, long...

We write the bitter fictions of our lives to escape the crushing disappointment of our reality. The pages swallow our rage so that our...

When I was young, my iron spine gleamed as I stood in the stream and resisted the current. Time passed, and I still stand but the current...

At the end flesh melts from bone, the earth becomes dust again in the eye of the great sun. At the end steel breaks, rocks crumble,...

He lived a bachelor without indoor plumbing except for the kitchen sink where he filled the wash basin and shaved in front of the mirror...

Its always darkest in suburbia. Metal sentries stare through clear lenses, guarding postage stamp cookie cutter cracker boxes. False...

The city rises like spikes on a polygraph, steel, granite, concrete piercing gray clouds like needles. Far below, spokes in the American...

Everyday she writes the book, adding days, years, memories until pages can no longer contain her. Now, like a mystical being she takes...