by Harper Smith
i don’t know why i continue to search
it is a twisted, turning, terrible thing
a slip of scales, a sliver of silver
a serpent’s soul in the shadow of the sun.
ever elusive, effervescent and old–
an elderberry tree on its perch in the ether.
i am cold, i am caught, i am comforted
cataclysmic
a plunge of a cliff.
wild, Wanderer, where
Wonderer, Wanderer, wish
a wolf, the white,
you
f
i
g
h
t
for sanity, you slip into the sound
and it is soft, it is silent, it is
forever
you are found.
not long before you lose, so you
quicken, you clutter, you call,
hiding words behind your teeth in the water, now
pen, paper, peony,
the sweetest way to drown.
