Fire knows the wood's secrets,
the flame-tipped branch a pointed
lie. Deep out there, rumbled,
your animus treads through
broken brick - from an excavated
castle or a moat which lost its breath
just before the shovel and the gasp.
No hiding holes out in the field -
too open, too wide for lies.
I'd misremembered what I lack,
but in your grip, it pounded back.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
Fire knows the wood's secrets,
the flame-tipped branch a pointed
lie. Deep out there, rumbled,
your animus treads through
broken brick - from an excavated
castle or a moat which lost its breath
just before the shovel and the gasp.
No hiding holes out in the field -
too open, too wide for lies.
I'd misremembered what I lack,
but in your grip, it pounded back.
1st piece for NaPoWriMo.
First line stolen from Jesse Rodrigues' 'Fire Knows', published 2013 in Foyle Young Poets of the Year.
