The sleepy sadness of things ending
Will it be a relief to evaporate
and become everything else?
to stop twisting in the dark sheets of night
wings frozen to my sides, the moon
a lemon rind filling my mouth
with the sleepy sadness of things ending
Does the river think: I will let go
my song and one day leave
the bright trout who fan my heart—
rise, give up rivering and become
instead the hard sparks of stars
What struggle to shake the clay
from the new liturgy of our being:
……..the flight path of a hawk moth
……..winter trees cracking like gunshots—
you and I not even adding up
to a single violet, a secret
keeping itself, the business of eons
wishing to be nothing else
.
Watched by crows and friend to salamanders, Lisa Creech Bledsoe is a writer living in the mountains of North Carolina. She has two books, “Appalachian Ground” (2019) and “Wolf Laundry” (2020) out, and new poems in American Writers Review, The Main Street Rag, and Jam & Sand, among others.
