Photo - Douglas Salisbury
"Look, the trees are turning their
own bodies into pillars of light"
In Blackwater Woods - Mary Oliver
I can’t see the trees for the forest.
Limbs eclipse light bulb definition
in my wilderness of lost dreams.
Foggy memories hang from paperclip
eyelashes rusted by swampy tears.
Knees weak from chasing horizons
I sit on the bones of subtraction
wondering who penned “less is more.”
Suddenly, well as fast as sudden
can arrive on turtle feet, trees
fat bellied with light break through
my self-pity tearing it into fireflies.
Splinter roots no longer burn
or brew bitter tea on my lips.
Home is (was) walls papered
in few expectations, but I am
a broken limb grafted on the sky.
©Susie Clevenger 2015