p-oh!-etry
something Wild
by julie doane roberts
flames fall up, a blurred brass waterfall. blood-amber
and ash in blocks of cinder not yet asunder
and i wonder why purple ghosts
hold flame to a passing source.
in, on, under black wood in strips of licorice,
disintegrating, a comfort.
the sound, hot-spark.
i was left in a bag of skin along the trail.
erode away eternity from dirt like a bead of glass, faceted. am i the only
child of jesse james and a random mary? accomplices, always. i love a lot
but still nobody knows me. pick five lines,
make up your own story.
When i’m gone i’ll finally be as gone
as i’ve always been.
clouds, strewn, across the water, dancing ostrich-swan with wings
aflutter lyrical merganser orange in the setting sun. four red berries
bob in hollow leaves of rusty veins and yellow trim. spartina
soldiers check themselves, neat, along the rim.
cream, crimson, amethyst-branched i call me, but i will not come.
magic dust of white stone fragile lay the wind or feet who sway cups of you in shadow light with slipping
step, slipping
step.
fringed in mossy splotches of lime or forest green – a wild rose throne.
i’ll find my home, i’ll find my Home through paths i press
for Answers. and Chances. beauty falls where it will, or won’t. i echo
on bridges where below me waits a pool of purple gone vermouth, hoping
hope at will. won’t. can’t.
when i call me, i do not come.
The world is going grey for me but i will still wear red.
trunks fuse into smoke-dark lumps of root stairs,
down to up,
i twist and wish
like a child for something wild, some
thing
Wild.
This breath means the heavens to me, comes faster still. dragon with burning
desire.
All i ever needed is the fire.
the fire!
