#NaPoWriMo 2015 no.3

in poet ghost world, does Ted Hughes gnaw on Sylvia's bones?


with the swoop quiet 
of a hawk
in the rain, 
he talks...

to me
knifes me 
where time
wears me 
counting Moons
until Spring
colors paper 
with poems
thin enough
to field
wind's arrival 
too, incised
then revived 
in full 

need crawls
the spines
of things

hunger dresses 
parts by season 
reason burns hearts 
thirsts completion 
and we turn wheels
spawn ritual smites 
at Winter's end 
we glide...

we leans into the hems 
sash setting our western suns 
as trees receive banquet orders 

a bare limb forest 
is keenly observed too
for any movement below 

yes, you see 
tasty and awake 
even just once 
in my eye
is so easy 
to eat...



EJR ©