Skip to main content

Once around the Ankle, Forever

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #253. 


A vine sprawls over the post, leaning
over the railing, pointing down the culvert.
A poodle stumbles to a saunter at pressure
while her boy shuffles up into a yard 
to avoid a parked car, a puddle of old pollen,
and the sly glances of squirrels. 
The coyote feels the vine pointing
and suggests the girl tear her photo,
revealing she's just another vine.
The poodle strains but the boy doesn't see
and the squirrels don't tell.

I think a summer day has become lost in the middle of spring and I'm just ready for summer's hibernation. Poets hibernate in summer, right?

-- chrissa

Comments

  1. HelenApril 1, 2023 at 3:03 PM

    Love your maze of a poem and YOU hibernate? Never.

    ReplyDelete
  2. JimApril 1, 2023 at 4:33 PM

    Squirrels are cunning creatures. They squirrel away a lot of useful information. For blackmail?
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  3. AngelaApril 2, 2023 at 6:55 AM

    I love the eeriness created in this poem such a good read 🙌

    ReplyDelete
  4. Susie ClevengerApril 2, 2023 at 9:35 AM

    I love what you saw and created from the image...The worded revelation of inspiration

    ReplyDelete
  5. qbitApril 2, 2023 at 12:52 PM

    Great title, and maybe we are all just vines and tangle.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Carrie BurttApril 2, 2023 at 1:03 PM

    Love the way this feels so mysterious from beginning end...all the while captivating like a vine around the ankle. Even in hibernation you could write the most wonderful poem my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Gillena CoxApril 2, 2023 at 1:55 PM

    What a tangled weave you wove today. I do not understand it. I appreciate it.
    Thanks for dropping by my blog.

    Much💚love

    ReplyDelete
  8. Keith's RamblingsApril 3, 2023 at 2:44 AM

    Interesting, intriguing and a pefect accompaniment to the picture!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Fearsome by Survival

  Sharing today with T he Sunday Muse #189 , where Shay is hosting. Come and read and share a piece! On a web-white, wool-quiet morning I found the girl our stories gave us The one who survived She wore the meadow, carded and sewn Long since burned for field Still, she knew me Her stories named me fierce, feral She might have feared  The one who devours Neither of us spoke, patient at morning Breath, warmth, silence Innocent of power We know the stories kill us both We know that we become Fearsome by survival Hello and welcome. It's 67 degrees outside this morning and a warm December weekend might seem like the kind of thing that would prevent me from following through on a plan to hibernate with a good book for the rest of the weekend...but it's the doomscrolling that's run down the charge on my phone that's preventing me from doing that. Also, I may have developed an intolerance to long stretches of quiet during the past year and a half.  Anyway. Looking forward to r...
16 comments
Read more

On Bad Days

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186 . Sorry. Probably best to skip this one. On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty; I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore it obsesses to possess mass, to be something arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall deeper and deeper into time until they  drag everything into the void and are empty, wrung out of needing to have an argument and then we look at each other, deep in the black fallen forever of our gaze.  I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!...
12 comments
Read more