Poetry by Faith Brown

      Nicholas Erwin CC




When He Lays

I watch my father lay in bed 
fetal and pale.

Like a newborn baby,
like a chick in egg shell.

He lays in his nest
made of sticks, springs, and sawdust — 

made of malt, sweat, and ash.
I wonder what his dreams are made of

as his angled limbs peak through
thin yellow sheet.

In bed, my father lay
like a crescent moon,

and I witness how fast we wane.
Until then, 

I watch my father lay
burrowed and hushed

encrusted in a delicate dome,
in an amniotic fluid,

and I wait for him to crack.




​Faith Brown is a poet from The Bronx. She holds an MFA from City College of New York, where she was awarded The Jerome Lowell DeJur Prize for her poetry manuscript. She was also selected as a nominee for Best of the Net 2024. Her work has appeared in Moss Puppy Magazine, Daily Drunk Magazine, and The Marbled Sigh. She is also on Twitter @_faithestella.
​