Bruce McRae

The Dog Of His Thoughts

I am divinity, said the lunatic.
I am an onyx column, a chronicle
of fantasy and reflection. I am
a treble-clef. A mule of consistence.

The wind blew this way and that way
and the lunatic declared himself
to be a wicker effigy, a mosaic trampled
by tourists, the sacking of Rome.

I am a beach during constant summer,
the-one-who-was-mad explained.
I am the death-warmed Ganges,
he muttered into his bandages.

Children threw stones in a field
while the madman paused in wonder,
his mind-monsters waiting patiently,
the wind persistent in its endeavours.

The Devil May Care

The devil rang while you were out.
He said he was sorry to have missed you,
that he'd been hoping to reconnect.
(his words, not mine)
He'd only just found your number,
he explained, in the pocket of a jacket.

The devil asked if you were well,
and I didn't know what to say.
It's best you tell him yourself.
We all have problems.
We all have teeth to grind
and bones to powder into meal.

Regardless, he said he'd call around some day,
catch up on old times,
if you weren't too busy.
I almost felt sorry for him.
I almost felt something.

Talent Show Auditions

Next is a comedian
who simply stands there sobbing.
A stagehand leads him away.

Then, a juggler of the invisible.
Either a con, or utter genius.

A singer only dogs can hear.

A magician, minus any magic.

The mute thespian,
his monologue of clicks and whistles.
We thank him for coming.

Lastly, after a trying day,
a woman who only glares at us,
her anger palpable,
our personal lives in disarray.
All kinds of trouble brewing.

Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician and multiple Pushcart nominee, has had work appear
in hundreds of publications around the world. The winner of the 2020 Libretto Chapbook
Prize (20 Sonnets), his books include ‘The So-Called Sonnets’; ‘An Unbecoming Fit Of
Frenzy’; ‘Like As If’; ‘All Right Already’ and ‘Hearsay’.

Flights. Issue One, June 2021