Saturday, May 24, 2014

The Arrows That Choose Us

photo: ralph murre, glass artist: unknown

The Arrows That Choose Us
by Marilyn Annucci

the ones who hover above us, pressing us
to live or love or be eaten by death
are smaller than ferns, taller than goats,
redder than blood, cold as snow inside snow
inside caves of rock or shadows or
a garden’s hell. They exist in mud, in a sky
beyond sky, in a mind that won’t stop,
in the white light of another realm where
duty calls, where tunnels are wrought,
where strange creatures move forward
bearing black bones, talons, words, the prick
of desire, whatever is needed to tear us awake

~ previously published in Waiting Room (Hill-Stead)