my burdened inventory of life,
poems almost frozen in time.
My life reimagined in manuscript.
It would be a wonder, a miracle
to see these remains stored in boxes
in the backs of closets
revealed in sunshine, fresh air,
displayed in the front windows of bookstores.
However, such sudden revelation
as this final voice of mine is incarnated.
Squawking, then I feel
like I’d hit a baseball
accidentally through a neighbor’s window,
a picture window, a mirror,
my life for all to see.
my private thoughts revealed.
My voice is heard, my own fingers
point, not as a victim or a criminal,
Richard E. Brenneman has returned to writing poetry after many years working for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. He has been published in The Rimrock Poets Magazine, and The Denver Post Magazine in Colorado, in San Jose, California and also in England and locally. He lives in Boston, Massachusetts spending time writing poetry, continuing his genealogical research, seeking kindred spirits and people watching.