Thursday, March 6, 2008

The woods

Under the belly of the stars
secrets lie.
The moon watches, lips rounded in a sympathetic breath
Ohhhh
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

2 comments:

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.

Kat

RachelW said...

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