Brad Rose

Early Spring Evening Three-Car Collision

The rain, evenly distributed,
acting pretty
in the black and chrome stare
of six stunned headlights.

Blue Period

At the end of the saddest sentence,
you pause,
avert your face,
and gaze out the maternity hospital’s window,
into the broken-hearted distance,
as if searching
for the perfect

Brad Rose’s poetry and fiction can be found at: