the woodland area surrounding a town - a poem


Woodland surrounding a town - art by Aimée Lister

a willow sags sadly in dark water,

weeping without eyes. the birch stares

back with tens of eyes that do not cry. i


hide my feelings from a watchful mother

who wears her own like robes, and we share

apples and plums from trees burdened with

more than they can bear.


my friends flock by mirrors in isolated

bedrooms; waxing, waning, and counting

bones. the mirrors show them eyeless

strangers made from shadows. outdoors,


there are maples buckling bony ankles.

there are flames which thicken

in the bruised callus of a yew that carves

and knocks the sky with broken

wings.


here, there are no shadows.


the forest calls out with an open mouth

and dawn responds with fiery brushes.

the forest blushes. indoors,


my friends whorl their cheeks with rosy oils.


we cannot stray far from our skeletons.


our branches arc aching spines, building

roots that anchor. they leave

able hands.



By Louder Than The Storm contributor Amelie Maurice-Jones


#AMELIE_MAURICE-JONES

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