E.G. Burrows

March 17, 2016

“Balloon” by E. G. BurrowsPosted by

E. G. Burrows

BALLOON

Bristling, dogs howled.
The smallest ran in circles,
unable to escape
the terror that fired with a roar
and hovered above runs and kennels.

Flame wrinkled the air
under the belly of the orange balloon-skin.
The ribs grinned like a jack-o’-lantern,
eyes lit
by a candle inside the skull.

A man held out his hand
to reassure the dogs, then he too
howled and ran in circles,
joyful that finally
the prophesied dragon had arrived,
descending with all its warheads primed,
its steel teeth bared to the gums.

—from Rattle #17, Summer 2002

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May 7, 2011

“Coast Road” by E.G. BurrowsPosted by

E.G. Burrows

COAST ROAD

North by coast road we drove
through stands of redwood tagged
for the lumberman’s ax,
past alpine villages and herds
of humped cattle in a kind of gorse,

to stop by the postcard bridge
arched over silted wetlands,
the sand creating nests
beasts might crawl to fill.

So little left unmarred
where we rode in the failing light.
We should have fled to the water,
initials carved on our backs
like scrimshaw on the jawbones of whales.

—from Rattle #26, Winter 2006
Tribute to the Greatest Generation

__________

E.G. Burrows: “Although I was born in Texas, grew up in New England and worked for many years in broadcasting in Michigan and Wisconsin, I’ve traveled widely in this country and abroad. There’s always something new to see like California in ‘Coast Road.’”

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