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Emilea Burgh Feb 2
the house across the street
has been empty
for years
because the landlord can’t afford
to tear it down
or build a new one
and it won’t pass inspection

one lamp stays on
all day
all night
to deter the copper thieves
or any other broken soul
seeking shelter
from the streets

a child runs across the splintered floor
his feet black as tar
stinking of mildew and *****
a mother sinks into her soiled chair
but she tries

a trust-fund recipient rides his jet-ski
his oiled body
tanned and toned
a father, gleaming, takes a photo
and he flaunts

everyone has their own place in the world
in a trailer park
in a tent
in a split-level home
in a shelter
in a palace

but never on the pavement
beaten down
like a poorly-trained dog
blamed for the errors
of its master
Emilea Burgh Nov 2018
At what point
would I take for granted
those crystal waters
and those consecrated mountains?

Yet there are days still spent
dreading sundown
or the sleepless daybreak
of a grieving city

Does escaping your hometown
make you a coward or
shall I die a martyr?

Might I pencil in a visit to each grave?
Or would you like to deliver
the flowers
for me?
for JPM
Emilea Burgh Nov 2018
were you warm when the lights faded out?
was it just how you wanted it?

when the golden hour comes
and the dullest corners come to life
I search for you

can you hear me?
did you think you could pray your way out?

when your mind stopped racing
I hope you were clutching those beads
studying the heavens

did you find it?
do you now know the solace
that I never will?
dedicated to JPM 9/3/17

first in a series
Emilea Burgh Nov 2017
a man holding a sign
in the cold rain
“forgotten Vietnam vet”

disposable as napkins
they clean up your mess

you can toss them away
but the stain
bleeds through

as your heated seats
warm only
your ego
Emilea Burgh Aug 2017
I dreamt of being on a plane
plummeting towards the bluish green marble
my future existence in question

I reached for the phone
wanting only to say,
“Thank you.
You saved me.”

My soul was rescued from oblivion
by a man
who taught me how to love again.
He peels himself away from my grasp
before sunrise
as I groan out a desperate plea
as time’s most
disgruntled prisoner.

He eats up what my heart feeds him
because it’s all I have to offer.
And past visions of future homes
disappear
and are replaced
by not a place
but a person.

And suddenly
the path I am on
seems much less important
than the hand
I am holding.

I’ll follow
either way.
edited
Emilea Burgh Aug 2017
through misery and neglect
I kept on

for this I am thankful

because everything that has ever moved me
was pushing me one step closer
to you
Emilea Burgh Jun 2017
I am the human
giving tree

and there's been a little boy
hanging off my branches
for far
too long

I have no apples left
just some twigs
and a
strong trunk

where someone
once carved their name
never to be
erased
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