By: Steven Bruce

The Miracle on Mundane Street

The morning came
and didn’t try to flog me
a miracle.

The coffee tasted like coffee,
the path beside the river was dry,
and the crows
conducted their usual
crooked business.

Nothing historic happened.

The world offered
an empty bench,

a breeze.

Sometimes you walk down the street
with your hands in your pockets
and the day feels
a little less interested
in fighting you. 

Peace Is an Open Window

You clear your desk.
Pour coffee. Light a cigar.

You turn it off,
every last distraction
that steals you
from yourself.

You hope no one’s shadow
darkens your door.

You are nothing tonight
but a clean page.

You sit. You write.

You breathe.

And it sounds
like someone
opening a window. 

Home Is Where the Art Is

This room, this chair,
these pages
know me better
than any heart.

I write.
The words are sparks
against the dark.

The night leans her head
on my shoulder.

Cigar smoke curls between us,
and there is no past,
no tomorrow,

only the light
of the next line.

###

Steven Bruce is an award-winning author whose poetry and short stories have appeared in international anthologies and magazines. He holds an MA in Creative Writing from Teesside University and explores themes of trauma, survival, and the human condition. Born in England, he now writes full-time in Poland.