This is a Frankenstein Night.
Re-build the monsters in your life. Finish work in the dark, pace
the salted car park to where you parked. You spent the shift
smiling, cramping on un-passed wind. The waistband bites.
Check behind, let go of painful blusters as you waggle across
the stiffened grit. Turn to unlock the car, be feared that someone
might grab your back, pull out your lungs, crack your spine,
ground you like a broken doll. Sit at the wheel and scream
your breath. Press a thumbnail to the opposite hand and scrape
a beautiful traipse of pain. Mourn the lack of spectacle. Too much
night for birds. Snatch what you can from the headlight’s fan.
Stretch your voice to the radio. Make your throat a wishing well.
About the Author:
Jane Burn is a Forward and Pushcart Prize-nominated poet who is based in the North East of England. Her poems have been widely published in many magazines, including Butcher’s Dog, The Rialto, Under the Radar, Crannog, Strix and Iota Poetry. Her work has also been included in anthologies from publishers such as The Emma Press, Seren, and Smokestack. Since 2014, Jane has been lucky to have success in forty-one poetry competitions. Her eighth book, Yan, Tan, Tether is due to be released by Indigo Dreams.