Sunday, December 1, 2024

Judges 13: In Writing

Morning, and the light is

laden with meaning.

Caulking the walls

warming the trees.

Overhead, dark clouds lower

big-bellied and dark

with potential.

 

Watch the light trace the ominous 

dark in a halo.

Watch it outline the empty spaces.

Watch it fade in a flurry.

 

Sometimes the light entices

promising intoxication 

deeper than wine’s 

headache sluggishness.

 

On my knees

I dig a small hole

and drop a smooth bulb in.

No hairline roots

to burst the earth

like a crack

streaks a mirror 

before it shatters.

 

Pat the dark earth around,

sticky rot scent 

caking my fingers.

 

Imagine an arrow of red rising

to unfurl in a perfect 

cupped poppy.

Drunk, and not with wine.

No comments:

Post a Comment