To finish off our National Poetry Month celebration, I offer a more recent creation of mine. Thanks for reading!
I made that girl, but is she grateful? No. True, I drove her to the edge of consciousness dumped her on a shore peopled with past failures and traumas, to the lip of a river that flows from her gut to her throat. But see— the water there is beautiful crowded with luminescent trout their scales speckled with amber and rose. Beyond that is the dark wood that grows thick behind her eyes where she can wait and watch for the red foxes to emerge from shadowy hutches beneath cottonwood trees. Their fur is thick their noses are keen. If she follows them They will protect her. Photo by Carl Newton on Unsplash