perfumed in the corners of the house
lies smoke that has not been aired out;
forever stained in the leather &
mentioning it will attract
my mother’s attention— there — don’t you remember? my grandmother
before the fireplace, chained to many bottles:
the bond outlasting all her others—
‘it’s very similar,’ says my brother.
in the silence that reigns
the death of grandma’s face feigns shadows, showing as
the mirror images of family members standing above it
too prideful to look down to notice the flaw & change it
or just too late?
Brendan Owens recently graduated from California Polytechnic University, San Luis Obispo. He is now working professionally in Information Systems and Information Technology within the scope of business administration. Pursuing an English minor in college gave him the space he required to further develop my passion for creative writing with additional coursework. He also has goals of pursuing an MFA sometime in the future.