Taylor Burnham


Stained copper touches skin 

as desperate fingers release. 

Turns and flips all the way down 

until consumed by the darkness. 

Pool of water underneath, 

crashes inside with a silent plop 

and left to drown for years: 

Once a coin, now a dream. 


Weed that blossoms— 

ugly and round— 

picked not for its irresistible beauty. 

Cold winds brush the surface, 

blowing away children from their home. 

Once nestled in the pores, 

snug right next to their brothers, 

sent away and dispersed all over: 

A million little wishes. 


Deep night sky 

painted in iridescent black; 

stagnant light dots the canvas. 

An insurgent moves whimsically to fade, 

destroying the still scene. 

Transient rock miles from the surface 

drifting to better days, 

spreading magic dust along its path: 

Close your eyes and wait. 


Tangible objects 

burdened to be much more, 

expected to do the impossible. 

Yet I put my faith in the superstitious; 

talent remains accidental, 

and blame is placed on the unexplainable. 

I fear what I can control, 

dear universe: 

Take the accountability away.