beyond the porch steps
the ground is full of entrances:
rivulets, groins, fissures,
glands swelling from under
brown leaves crisp as paper,
roots grab hold
and twist like a blind
hand finding an eye,
dark mold,
in the crotch of things,
on the rotted squirrel
skull, on the fallen hive
Ooooh. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteReally liked S1 & S2. Perhaps S3 did not take me where I expected but still much enjoyed!
ReplyDeleteChristine, I really liked this poem. It was refreshing this morning.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Talia!
ReplyDeleteNick -- hmm. Interesting. Thank you.
And Thanks Rachel!