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No Where Now
No (where) Now
I don't want to write about it
but my pen keeps circling
hungry near the wounded
hidden tall grass metaphor of decay
any small movement snaps
the bowstring free
lies like arrows arc across
the fallen trees
iambic missing everything
the zero that I'm seeing
moon there just rising
Sarah's
looks down full not smiling
poetry stops when the living get too close
I've lost my bag of sins
signed off the last appraisal
I've nowhere left to be
silence locks each metered word
third stanza just for you
easy to rewrite the first
not so much the view
(homage to S.T.)
Copyright ©
Paul Trimble
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