Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Forty-three April 2017 |
| Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Order | Archive | Submission | About Us | Misty | |
TO CONTINUE FIGHTING THE WOLVES Sara Barnett There’s a lot of ego floating in the atmosphere today Lazy skies and days where I just play – Act, like I’m unpart of any age and beat the drum. Like sauce that’s spread real thin on plate Or dust that lays in the lines within The very cracks of this sidewalk-march to death, where We bake or save the dates. I don’t plan too far ahead anymore. People keep buzzing at, knocking at my door. I just ignore the calls. I just pretend that the window blocked up because the rope was old, even though my ego, oven-fire stoked, burns to hear you say, “I have missed you. Please, please come in from the storm.” Because even then, I may laugh, rueful, and throw my hair jet black into red hood, feed small cakes to the hungry birds, and say, Oh yeah? Come and find me Here! Here, Between the trees, where the mosses have hidden path below in one beatific soundless noise, and water drops in do. I wish that time would stop and look around. Take stock of all its found and let it be. I wish, sometimes, there was no such thing as witness. You to me. Let me up let me up let me up! I strap the arrows, quiver. Seek the dark. |
About Sara Barnett Previous Poem | Next Poem |
| Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Order | Archive | Submission | About Us | Misty | |