Friday, October 2, 2015

John Swain- A Poem


Rock island jawline gnaw
in the white fog
blur of spruce and firs,
a mystery of distance
the wilderness star.
Cold water,
I listened to the fox drink
at the clearing
where I drank from 
an earthen jug.
Severity of nightfall,
I waited the eternal sabbath day
for you to crawl
naked from this lake
inside my wounded palm.

John Swain lives in Louisville, Kentucky. Least Bittern Books published his second collation, Under the Mountain Born.  

No comments:

Post a Comment