Awake before the weak break of lichen moon
run aground against a cold coast.
Silhouette human
alone,
on hilltop, knifing in-
to sky underbelly, July thunder
bellowing. Clouds billow.
This landscape is
unfamiliar. Unfamilieu. Un-
heimlich:
hills lacquered pill white
cowled by gargoyle trees.
Something deeply troubling happened here.
His measured footprints calculate
the time taken to undulate
from snowtopped mound to frozen gorge.
Sixty eight
days, not a
minute less.
No other tracks pattern the snow.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment