KR OnlinePoetry

The Woods

To make of my life a serial of doors

To gradually reduce my tolerance for freeze

To pass from zone 5a to 6a to 8b to 10a yet

Still bear hands cold from technology

Every night before bed

And in the scarcely orange dawn, a 6:30 apprehension

No matter the time stamp of sleep

To watch in the blue glow

Circles around the body tighten year after year

To be unchecked on

And unchecking

To go back down there, now external, a specter

Of history not quashed but quiescent: a speck

In the charged dirt of a frozen field

To photograph the field

To receive seven hearts as comment yet silence

Re personal transmission

To picture every moment as a site of surveillance, blue glow

An auric egg around the sweet nights

And the concealed

To observe the self flickering in the mind of the beloved

To decline a coherent eye

To watch the light faintly glimmer from

A crack around the door

To open it and exit the fairy tale

The woods’ gloamy sprawl, hallucinatory reach, network of the absent cantering inside

To have never seen lurking

Or coming toward me, shadow long

Old danger

Empty new life