Through the window, quiet rain. Through the window, a woman’s hands arced in morning prayer.
If not rain, I would be a Thumbelina sliding into the silky bell-bottoms of flowers. If not hands, I would be the day cupped between, still secret-sweet.
If a flower, I would proceed brazenly blossom by ecstatic blossom down the winding April streets. If the day, I would warble amazed through all my encounters.
And if from a dark cave of longing came the strength to thrust aside logs of bark mulch, I would say love itself sprouted green and slender in the sun-slanted garden.
From across the room, you come toward me. What would it take to meet the horizon most feared and sails flapping, drop anchor in the storied harbour of your arms?
Through the window, the steam of rain falling now into light, the backyard cedars leaning toward us, generous limbs outstretched, as if to say— all it takes is yes.
Another older poem, first published in North Shore Magazine in 2008.
The spring issue of Soul-Lit is now live and I have two poems in it that can be read here.
I’ll note that “Morning Blessing” previously appeared in my chapbook “Irresistible” and “Kindness” in the anthology “Best of Kindness 2017” where it placed third. These notes were supposed to be included with their appearance here. Such a lovely journal! Do check out the rest of the issue.
When Camel-heavy lungs finally shrank
my father’s world to a bed by the window,
on sunny winter days his bed
became a beach where he lay,
pajama top unbuttoned, hairless chest
exposed, the whooshing surf
of the oxygen tank now pleasing.
And the sun, unmitigated by a pane of glass
or the pain of a rationed breath,
was kindness itself, bestowing the
warmth of many hands it seemed,
keeping the dying fire inside aglow
long after it reached the end
of his square footage of sky.
Today’s sunshine reminded me of this poem, first published in “Best of Kindness 2017” by the Origami Poems Project. My father never lived to see this poem but he told me that the best last days of his life were as I’ve attempted to describe.
O! Moon’s so full –
I could say it is an orgasm
of light
or the white climax of a line
that in its beginning
meets its end
or it is a tearless eye
that cannot close
its dark and heavy lid.
I could say it is a dead planet
thrust deep in our throats
but you might choke on that.
How about a window
through which we are beheld,
in which we see a shadow of ourselves:
look how, night after night,
the moon slowly pieces itself together
until, weeks later – and then briefly –
it is whole again,
as if it finally finds the answer
to an old, disturbing question
only to lose it
down the well of darkness
from which it came.
I think this is the only poem from my first chapbook “Stealing Eternity” that I haven’t yet posted on the blog.
I am back from a nourishing month on our coastal waterways, my favourite season upon us now – a time of great release and vibrant ripening. Autumnal blessings to all!
Now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/irresistible-by-lynne-burnett/
As the pressrun is determined by advance sales, reserving your copy between now and January 12, 2018 would make a huge difference! My book’s actual release date is March 9, 2018.
What they’re saying:
“Lynne Burnett is astonishing. I cannot think of another poet who writes with more humanity. Wisdom is a word we seldom associate with poetry, but she reminds us that simply seeing the world the way it is can be a profoundly moral and life affirming act. It’s what happens when compassion marries irony. The love child is this wondrous little book.” —D.G Geis, author Fire Sale (Tupelo Press/Leapfolio) and Mockumentary (Main Street Rag).
The poems inside Lynne Burnett’s chapbook live up to the collection title. Irresistible. Here is a poet demonstrating her considerable talents. There is much music and rhythm in these pages, and keen insight to the ebb and flow of relationships and heartbreak. I was particularly taken by the deft handling of the near miss in “Mute with Thanks.” And I was moved by the poignant stories in the title poem, “Irreplaceable” and “On Hearing That a Friend’s Husband Has Died in His Sleep.” Even the table of contents in this lovely book is a form of call and response. Her imagery and language resonated with me long after I finished reading. –Devi S. Laskar, Author of “Gas & Food, No Lodging” (Finishing Line Press, 2017) and “Anastasia Maps” (Finishing Line Press, 2018)
Lynne Burnett takes us deep into the world of what is, what isn’t and what might have been, of accidents and unplanned incidents “where we fall without falling,” and death rings “a bell that won’t stop singing of loss.” Love is coupled with death here, and life is “an unfinished dream.” Burnett pulls us into the flow of the inevitable, where we feel the unheard and hear the unmentioned in the in-between, with powerfully rendered, beautifully phrased and sonically perfect observations. Irresistible is just that – an irresistible, stunning debut. –Robert Okaji, author of From Every Moment a Second (Finishing Line Press, 2017)
Here is a sample poem from the book, with an audio recording:
GLASS SLIPPERS
Walking barefoot
across the dewy lawn,
the grass riotous with light
that began its journey toward her
over four billion years ago,
light that will burn five billion
years more after she’s gone,
like candle to candle lit
my pixie daughter’s a thirsty wick
for joy, sure any life glad to be
is all that matters,
and I want to tell her yes
while light is leading her heart
out its small window
of time, and blade by blade
from beaded grass her
own glass slippers made,
yes
before gravity weighs in.
Over the next couple of months I will continue to post samples. Thank you to all who find my happy news “irresistible”!
Lynne Burnett 