Brandon Noel
Breakfast on the Weekends
In the kitchen. In my element.
I can feel the whole state
roll back over me, the five days gone,
the coal dust in the creek,
the ankle bone offering of my labor,
and the Appalachia tea leaves--
never read them right:
When I come back,
I will, with all the noise
of morning with me,
come back
bright as the sun
A rumble shuddered through the house,
steps came quicker and louder until
my four-year-old Abigail jumped around the corner,
a proud lopsided grin shining at me.
“I saw a big black ant in you-and-mommie’s room,
but don’t worry cause I smashed it
with the book that has God’s words in it.”
I thanked her.
Children start to read without letters,
and the stories they tell are better for it.
She said, “You’re welcome!”, already out the doorway.
A lamp unto my feet,
and a light unto my path,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
a holy rollin bug swattin machine,
ancient of days, the red rock of ages,
come back to me.
I can feel the whole state
roll back over me, the five days gone,
the coal dust in the creek,
the ankle bone offering of my labor,
and the Appalachia tea leaves--
never read them right:
When I come back,
I will, with all the noise
of morning with me,
come back
bright as the sun
A rumble shuddered through the house,
steps came quicker and louder until
my four-year-old Abigail jumped around the corner,
a proud lopsided grin shining at me.
“I saw a big black ant in you-and-mommie’s room,
but don’t worry cause I smashed it
with the book that has God’s words in it.”
I thanked her.
Children start to read without letters,
and the stories they tell are better for it.
She said, “You’re welcome!”, already out the doorway.
A lamp unto my feet,
and a light unto my path,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
a holy rollin bug swattin machine,
ancient of days, the red rock of ages,
come back to me.
Biography
Brandon Noel (he/him), lives in Northeastern Ohio and has worked as a machinist for the last ten years while writing on his breaks and brief moments of down time. Poetry is this struggle he can’t seem to quit. Sometimes he wins and other times a poem stumbles out. He facilitates a local monthly writers group called, “The Makeshift Poets”. Brandon turned 33 last December and has two daughters, ages 10 and 5, whom he raises with their mother.
Follow him on Twitter: @The_Mongrel. He has self-published two poetry collections: Mongrel (2015) and Infinite Halves (2017), which are available at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/BrandonLNoel |