Friday, March 8, 2013

A Poem by Michael H. Brownstein

Angel in the Doorway

From the doorway an angel in red
a fire of love, an entrance to hope.
All who enter here do not burn.

She stands behind the door
peering out, looks past the trees,
winter and her grass remains green.

How can this angel be sad?
I watch her from my window
and do not understand.

Wait a moment with me, please.
I have to tell her something.
I have to tell her she is loved.

Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published throughout the small and literary presses.  His work has appeared in The Cafe Review, American Letters and Commentary, Skidrow Penthouse, Xavier Review, Hotel Amerika, Free Lunch, Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Pacific Review, and others.  In addition, he has nine poetry chapbooks including The Shooting Gallery (Samidat Press, 1987), Poems from the Body Bag (Ommation Press, 1988), A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), What Stone Is (Fractal Edge Press, 2005), and I Was a Teacher Once (Ten Page Press, 2011).  He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011).

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