your woods (Poem 20160504)

i search the wild place
inside you where you left me
you invited me into your woods
under the pretense of a picnic
i expected sandwiches under
these trees, to serve tea, watch
the sunlight dapple the leaves
but i have become lost inside you
my compass is slag in my hand
stars move about the sky unfixed
where the earth should be hard
it moves like water
caught in some legned or fairy tale
i curse myself for not leaving
a trail of small white stones
and listen in this silence for your voice


the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #35

12 thoughts on “your woods (Poem 20160504)”

    1. Yeah, I don’t always get it either. Sometimes it’s like automatic writing. Slag is a great word. I saw it somewhere. Blimey. I can’t remember where.

  1. Love it! So glad I stumbled upon your site, these are some really cool poems!

    Now now, you didn’t really expect sandwiches and tea here did you? hehe 🙂

Comments are closed.