Tuesday, August 01, 2017

Twleve

1.
Her naked back,
silhouetted in the darkness,
is relaxed.

2.
An odd shape,
pools of white
reflect my image, my stare.

3.
Surrounded by the ashen forest,
a clear meadow
shines in the moonlight.

4.
The bright light
blinds me momentarily,
for I need to stare,
but remain in the shadow.

5.
Shielding the delicate,
it is powerful
and makes her strong.

6.
Sloping toward the shades of gray,
I cannot tell which side is up,
or where to begin searching.

7.
I am intimidated by the sheer
face of the cold slope.
I begin my climb,
but cannot finish.

8.
Sliding down her spine,
I cannot control
my movements.

9.
Heat radiates
and she begins
to glow.

10.
The ridges
of her vertebrae
are stacked like building blocks.
I want to play.

11.
Still and cold
her stone
collects snow in patterns.

12.
Water running
over her shoulders
collects at the nape.


1 comment:

Adrian Neibauer, EdD said...

I recently reread Wallace Stevens', “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens. I have always liked how Stevens' blackbird is both alive and not; real and not. I wanted to try something like it, so I wrote this poem, creating twelve short observations.