Legend | Ellaine Beronio

It’s as if overnight                                                                                                                     The mountain grew
Prim. At dawn
Workers found it
Cloaked in clouds,
Fog lace draped over
Its breasts, a white
Sash declaring
Something’s concealed.

But he doesn’t need
Hiding, her husband
No one has seen
In almost two days,
His foot broken, or
A part of him pierced,
The blood
A trickle of liquid
On that surge of earth,
The whole length
Of him a reed
Among the aged trees.

. . .

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s