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Literature, PoetryOctober 12, 2013

Walking

Pencil vs Camera No. 52 by Ben Heine

Pencil vs Camera No. 52 by Ben Heine

Bluestone slabs lead out of town. Veined with runners,

fringed in grass, heaved and split by roots—

it could be a remote suburb of Byzantium or the edge

of a more familiar place.  We stumble together

over crooked seams, searching for smooth faces

we wore before the way was gray and overgrown.

 

We pass a mill along a hurried stream, soak and splash, fill

and empty, turn and grind, send up clouds

of dust, shed the husk, gather hearts, and keep walking.

Beside plaited vines on weathered post and wire,

we harvest flasks, swaying depths, expanding spice—our cheeks

color, we fruit like light back onto the trail.

 

The beat grows louder as we labor across ridges and ravines,

through woods with needled floors, caves

that release water, blood, and flame.  Finally we sleep

in a tangled glade deep in the belly of a drum,

grow younger suspended on flat-wound strings—feet

swinging in time.  At last a voice says breathe.

~ Leslie L. Nielsen

 

Originally from Seville, Ohio, Leslie L. Nielsen immigrated to Denmark in 2013 where she continues editorial work for Poets’ Quarterly and River Teeth Journal. Her poems have appeared in r.kv.r.y. and Literary Mama. She holds an MA in English Literature and an MFA in Poetry, teaches writing, leads creativity workshops, and occasionally blogs.

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