Aptly Named Meadow
By lupus tenebrae
The dirt road, that night,
lit up in
every grain
in arrows pointing westward,
I took this as a sign,
and started walking;
until I couldn’t see the grocery,
and the sting of caffeine
touching amateur tongues
couldn’t
be felt,
until the wildflowers
mixed with wheatgrass,
looked like stars
where the Earth and cosmos once met,
until I learned what’s in a name,
and that a tree’s roots
run farther down
than illusions would let you believe,
until I stopped wondering,
why my home was called Fisher's Lane
when there wasn’t
a body of water to be found.
I left
for an aptly named meadow,
traded my innocence for a verse,
and
found a voice
so I could claim something as mine.
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Copyright 2012 lupus tenebrae
Published on Wednesday, October 31, 2012.
Filed under:
"Poetry"