Wilderness
written by: Emma Wells
Inner consciousness bursts awake:
normally drugged, subdued by daily drudgery;
sleep is hazy like narcotics
dripping with gleeful, gregarious ribbons
as a fickle child with a new dress.
In the strangest wildernesses,
I find you.
Buried in a pocket of my soul
you lie dormant
only rippling at edges
as an uncurled fan
eager to taste the breeze
with papery lips
blessed as tongues in communion.
Rubble-clad roads
all lead to you
beyond screaming ‘STOP’ signs
and ‘DANGER – FALLING ROCKS’;
I press on, tunnelling under rocky bracken
tearing jeans and feral flesh
gazing high to your eyrie heaven.
At the summit,
my heart is an oaken door;
I hear its labours
fighting with gales in storms
slamming it shut in tempestuous tides
like rowing lovers cast adrift
both plunging oars for watery escape.
Your face would unravel me;
your eyes see through the fuzz
as neon runners on darkened streets.
I have to retreat. Hide.
I keep burrowing,
focusing downwards at thinking feet
whom know too much
as blind priests at confession;
my rotary beads are vapour
invisibly twisting in lost hands
searching for your anchoring eyes…
Knowing only you can divine me:
Like this.
And here.
- Haunt - March 28, 2024
- Spotlight On Writers – Emma Wells - February 24, 2024
- Snood - December 30, 2023
