Fear

the fire laid on while
winter in all its fury
rages at my door
–
grey skies-
cruel winter winds
howl at the moon

far icy mountains
bathed in shades of white and blue
float on arctic seas
–
broken ice-
polar bears
search for respite

with a poisoned pen
I write stories in the blood
of the innocent
–
desert sagebrush-
rattlesnakes hidden
in plain sight

at the podium
a wool blanket wraps itself
around my tongue
–
summer sun-
snowy cotton
waiting for harvest

heavy water jugs-
her small bare feet unwashed and
calloused from the road
–
the rivers edge-
awaiting her turn
in the water

bitter on the tongue-
the hot bilious taste of
someone else’s fear
–
an owl’s cry-
the field mouse
frozen

twisted hotel sheets
warm champagne and melted ice
left for housekeeping
–
an open window-
our naked skin
in the noonday sun

long after midnight-
my eyes lose their focus as
I write in my sleep
–
well past curfew-
tires on the
gravel drive

leaving my baggage
there’s far too much to carry
along this journey
–
the river left behind-
ewer water
darkens the road

alone in my room-
I can only feel safe when
no one’s allowed in
–
dying light-
the forest
changes