Detail of the Woods—Richard Siken (2011)

I looked at all the trees and didn't know what to do.

A box made out of leaves.
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.

From the landscape: a sense of scale.
From the dead: a sense of scale.

I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.
Everything casts a shadow.

Your body told me in a dream it's never been afraid of anything.

 
Previous
Previous

Making a Fist — Naomi Shihab Nye (1988)

Next
Next

The Uses of Sorrow—Mary Oliver