Three Poems (The Empty, December Night & Chains)

The Empty

Turn the bottle’s neck to my eye;
the world clear, but far-off and sound

In the silence my mind takes over
and your voice trails back to me,
bloodhound sure.

Pleading, my name, a giggle,
a hiss, my name, a lie.
A promise.

The bottle falls and I wake.
New sun, new air, new sounds.
I hold its base to my eye
and the world is an
empty blur.

December Night

We said hello.

We hoped.

We talked and we shared
as we walked on that crisp December night.

Our hands touched, entwined,
then loosened, parted as we talked
and shared some more.

We felt and we saw.

Our hands drew close again as we walked later.
They touched, then ‘twined once more
as we looked into each other’s souls.

We kissed and we held each other
on that now warm December night.

We knew.

We fell in love as we said hello.


What is worth coveting?
What can you justify?
What do you rationalize?
What burns you hotter than the flame?
What breaks you whether you have it or not?
What speaks to you when no one else will?
What beckons, consoles, demands, urges, whispers?
Does is scare you, drive you, make you feel whole?
Does it protect you
or do you protect it
in an armor
of shameless

About the contributor: Michael A. Griffith’s poems and other writings have appeared in many print and online publications. His chapbooks Bloodline (The Blue Nib) and Exposed (Soma Publishing and Hidden Constellation Press) were released in fall 2018. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize for poetry in October 2018. He lives near Princeton, NJ and teaches at Raritan Valley Community College.


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