Like and Like
By Bob Brussack
July 15, 2024
July 15, 2024
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when I was old
I was carried into the night by a dream of fireflies, lifted beyond a steppe and an obsidian sea to where the forests don’t speak of death as any separate thing, roots reaching deep into the gone in communion of like and like |
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Bob Brussack writes poetry and short fiction. He has been a broadcast journalist, a lawyer, and a law professor. He was born in Manhattan, lived much of his life in Athens, Georgia, and resides now in Kinsale, County Cork, Ireland. His poetry has appeared in the Black Coffee Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Naugatuck River Review, Roanoke Review, the San Pedro River Review, and elsewhere. You can find some of his poetry and his series of stories featuring Toad and Mary Grace at bobincork.com.
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Author’s Note:
All I can say about the piece is that it emerged as a fragment of my reflections on the mysteries of mortality. Life and death are binary, but intertwined — aspects, almost, of the same greater thing. Death is not “other” from us.