New Poetry for Writing & Reviews
tonight is the silence
the dreams deferred a gold
at the end of that country mile
I've known from my youth
I cannot see in the dark
black air and blacker
shapes close in squelching
in the skidding muck
I dodge my yesterday and fear
tomorrow, the gold vista
beckoning, still, I'm sure
but I can't look until I escape
these monsters in the marsh
which would contend and wrestle
strained bodies against each
until one gives asunder
the breath goes fast
is it love we're making
or murder? the mud
embraces, swallows me
deep
in the dank earth
where the golden vista radiates
a warmth never lost
within and ever present