Tuesday, November 11, 2014

evanesce.



the fields below are empty
the sound of high prairie
and faraway birds
               sifting
                       sifting
words and steps are muffled
on another frozen landscape

her face and her limbs
are hovering above sparkling soil
over the tops of dead wildflowers
with eyes closed and chin tilted skyward
listening for an ounce of truth

now the streets are mostly vacant
faint murmurs of pedestrians
finding their way to daybreak
she looks to see them vanish 
            and reappear
                        into doorways



© 11.11.2014 heather brager  

2 comments:

  1. I like this poem. Not only is it well written (deft and artistic phrasing), it also accomplishes that rare poetic feat: natural substances and phenomena allowed to have a subtle metaphysical latency or gist. Further, the poem has the good sense to be cast as an implicit questioning rather than as a dismal blathering.

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  2. Thank you very much, Tim. I've missed your musings.

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