Stoic Dawn by Jessie Browne Motionless morning— You lie passively. Do you resist or languish? Under your dead-weight Gaze, squirming, I feel My exuberance falter; Gently, joy abates, Finding itself bridled, Sheepishly going to ground. Water quenches fire; You are not the rain. Stone hedges. The inferno, Not slaked or smothered, Burns stationary -- A moving picture, dancing Light show, wild, denied, Full of longing, and Hungry to combust anew From Jessie Brown: “I have been honing my skills as a music journalist at Indy Metal Vault and a memoirist on my personal blog, http://hoosiermystic. wordpress.com Professionally, I am a chemist in the food and beverage industry. I live on the near Eastside of Indy in Little Flower with a spunky calico cat.”
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.