Whether I close my eyes or open them, the road pools at my feet--an act of faith. A trickster wind shakes invisible rain from obscure trees. I could stumble, drown
in shadow. Night bewitches itself, unknown, a country on the edge of every map. Memory counts the steps; I am always trapped here and here and here again.
The forest follows me. I reach out, touch nothing but the wet bark of wood refusing to burn, black as charcoal already. I might be a wraith, fraying into mist.
I hear my name on your lips, coalesce, morning dew on sun dazzled grass.
2 comments:
Let's try that again!
"The Woodsman's Daughter Elopes"
Whether I close my eyes or open them,
the road pools at my feet--an act of faith.
A trickster wind shakes invisible rain
from obscure trees. I could stumble, drown
in shadow. Night bewitches itself, unknown,
a country on the edge of every map.
Memory counts the steps; I am always
trapped here and here and here again.
The forest follows me. I reach out, touch
nothing but the wet bark of wood
refusing to burn, black as charcoal already.
I might be a wraith, fraying into mist.
I hear my name on your lips, coalesce,
morning dew on sun dazzled grass.
ljcohen, 2006
(Blogger messes with my line breaks-it's meant to be a verse libre sonnet, thus 14 lines. Three verses of 4 lines, a closing couplet)
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