Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Bamboo Hut, Vol. 1, Issue 3, April 2014

the way a deer moves
between startle and stare
in a shadowed waltz
the way you didn't tell me
you never learned to dance

I am lost
mewling in my sleep
as hungry mists
purr and weave around the ankles
of my scratched dreams

mistral winds
strum tattered rushes
in our redemption's marsh
red-winged blackbirds sing
the threnody of air

into a comma
she hides
inside fear's cave
while they rage on

he gasps
at the ragged scars
upon my back
remnants of that night
they tore off my broken wings

Bannock Point

on sacred stones
scarred with lichen
we listen to the chanting wind

tobacco bundles
tied to jackpine bones
prayer fragments
hanging deliverance
in the altar of air

No comments:

Post a Comment