A tiny devil lands
on my shoulder;
having no counter-
part, she stands
and, as I walk
at rabbit's pace
to the old place
where we used to talk,
she drags from
her cigarette,
flicking it,
hum-drum.
"He ain't comin',"
she says,
and ashes
on my neck.
"Don't need him,"
I lie--should lie
down to die,
but light up instead.
Unconvinced,
she scoffs at me.
"Then what do you need?"
And a dreadful wind
slithers through
the fissure,
icy, bitter.
"I don't need you."
The woods, too
are dead, like us--
a Winter-sheared husk
through and through.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe I don't.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe you won't.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
A tiny devil lands
on my shoulder;
having no counter-
part, she stands
and, as I walk
at rabbit's pace
to the old place
where we used to talk,
she drags from
her cigarette,
flicking it,
hum-drum.
"He ain't comin',"
she says,
and ashes
on my neck.
"Don't need him,"
I lie--should lie
down to die,
but light up instead.
Unconvinced,
she scoffs at me.
"Then what do you need?"
And a dreadful wind
slithers through
the fissure,
icy, bitter.
"I don't need you."
The woods, too
are dead, like us--
a Winter-sheared husk
through and through.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe I don't.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe you won't.
(c) KEP 2013
First poem of the new year has nothing to do with the new year haha
Please, honest reactions
Request permission to use this poem