Thursday, March 6, 2008

The woods

Under the belly of the stars
secrets lie.
The moon watches, lips rounded in a sympathetic breath
whether lovers grasp, creeps stalk their victims
or chainsaws rip through living tree-flesh in the night,
hasty to commit their furtive misdemeanors unseen.

Under the belly of the stars
a forest dies.
Bulldozers roll in with their
secret lies.

A child’s poster,
a crayon sketch of the gentle woods
with a message, forgotten,
is scattered to the wind.
Just another piece of litter,
unremarkable like the child’s dream
of nature’s mossy garden full of small miracles:
snails, squirrels, berries and life
crushed and rendered meaningless.

The moon witnesses the crime
but she is not telling.

Rachel Westfall
March 6, 2008


Poetikat said...

The sounds of love to express the sounds of the woods - I wish someone great would discover you and make you our Poet Laureate. Really, I do.


RachelW said...

Ooh, Kat, I wish I was talented enough to deserve the title; I'd be a great poetic shit-disturber! Hehehe!