A Collection of Short Poems

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Short Poems



Silverware askew,
two empty plates,
bits of food still clinging to the white china
before being emptied down the sink,
are all I have left of your voice, your face,

the kindness in both ransomed
into a bottomless drain pipe
with each bit of untouched asparagus.



I hate your happiness
That kills my hope
Your arms wrapped around her
Like a rope ’round my throat
They tell me let go
They tell me heaven knows about
The throbbing pain I’d rather live without
That will somehow turn into divine gain
In a future life, yet obtained
And until that time
in hatred
I remain.



The vision of his face
is like those of gods
on a Grecian vase
that I wish to dip my hands in
and from it withdraw
infinite heat of the sun
that resides behind his eyes,
and hold it
like I’ve got the whole world
in my hands.



and I

melted away

into the plants
and plasma

where my soul felt again
the comfort of a warm womb,

which matched the fire
of my burning
breathing heart

in equilibrium.


more by A. M. LAINE

photograph by Annie Spratt


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