Wild WoodsA Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
You are wilderness to me.
Wild woods growing unshaken with disbelief.
Lazy heart teaching circles of defeat.
You are forsaken pleasure.
Mingled pages numbered backwards
like falling bricks from a tree.
Pushing hands that grab
into the picture frame,
pulling out images that displease.
You are victim and criminal.
Each garment fitting as casually
as a finger smashed by a book.
Verbs that roll out like wheels
in the damp soil of the mud.
Mingle the urine with the blood,
this to make your eucharist.
This to create your ritual.
You are a symbol to me.
A broken nail in a hand
that has held the fire of love
as it ached to be released.
You are dismissed.
© 2011 Chris G. Vaillancourt
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on September 28, 2011
Last Updated on September 28, 2011
Chris G. Vaillancourt
Windsor, Ontario, Canada
AboutOver 200 of my poems have appeared in more than one hundred journals in the U.S. and Canada, in Japan and Australia, and the U.K. I have had a series of chapbooks published in the 1980's by 4 Wi.. more..
People who liked this story also liked..