'The Way Through the Woods'

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Sat, 09 Jan 2016
  • 1086 reads
2 comments
 
‘They shut the road through the woods
seventy years ago, and now weather and rain
have undone it again, and now you would never know
there was once a way through the woods.
Rudyard Kipling
 
This is the track leads to the tree
still remembers your first time
and a little white lie you told.
Carry on straight by the fire-pond
you went skinny-dipping at midnight
with that kid in fifth grade who lisped 
and couldn’t pronounce his aitches.
Turn left at the five-bar gate
where you let Barry Carlisle
feel right inside your pink chemise,
and how he counted the buttons
as he undid them, one by one by one,
and how his hand shook, and how. 
You didn’t/don’t regret it at all,
in fact you have no feelings one way
or the other, till you reach the cottage
and stand at the crazy-paving path
leads to the door. On your feet, sensible
lace-ups your mother made you have
you swore blind were meant for boys, 
and wearing earrings like the ones 
that movie-star wore in ‘Some Like it Hot’
the film you saw... the night he packed
all his crap, and quipped, ‘So long.’
French windows to the ‘music room’
will be open – you push them – walk
inside.  No one is there to greet you,
save next door's cat your mum fed,
sometimes, and now seems to have 
taken up residence for good, and so
you climb the stairs...your sister’s
in your room nicking your clothes,
again...nothing changes...she’s looking
for something black she says, and
as I’m a ‘Goth’ as she used to call me
I was bound to have something. Dad’s
in his den, I can hear him sobbing,
and Mum’s sitting over by the window
dressed all in white, like a bride, and
you want out of here.  But the GPS is broke...
and how to tote the last ten years or so 
with you when you go?
Certificate 15
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual

Comments

Submitted by VeraClark on

I love the Russian doll style of this, the inside- outness that takes you to that haunting. It works even better for the compact run-on structure - no stanzas or white space. A very novel way of telling history via landmarks. 

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

'the inside outness that takes you to that haunting'.

 Such a way with words, you have Vera, and I thank you for themsmiley

A peaceful Sunday to you.

Tina