The hazy static of a head rush
Radiating from forehead to kneecaps


I miss us.

The moon is always around at night
When your darkness can’t be more bright
Feel the echo attack the silent
It will haunt you, leave you violent

i am lost in the mirror
in the haze of a stare
her face is fading static
not to last
the mirror
gets the last laugh

Woeful glazes sitting idle  
                       for is one meant to be burdening  another,
And when the idleness
                          breaks free then all shall falter

The Secret of Her Clothes
by Michael R. Burch

The secret of her clothes
is that they whisper a little mysteriously
of things unseen

in the language of nylon and cotton,
so that when she walks
to her amorous drawers

to rummage among the embroidered hearts
and rumors of pastel slips
for a white wisp of Victorian lace,

the delicate rustle of fabric on fabric,
the slightest whisper of telltale static,
electrifies me.

Published by Erosha, Velvet Avalanche (Anthology) and Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: clothes, lingerie, nylon, cotton, amorous, drawers, slips, lace, static, electricity, mystery, mysterious

i saw a ghost
between the commercials
in the middle of the night
and for a moment
i couldn't hear anything
except the static