Come with me into the margins
before light becomes dark,
before summer turns cold,
before life turns into death again.
Come into the interstitial spaces
of neither/nor where the one
is not yet the other and not the same
as it will be while the circle of seasons
slips imperceptibly on and green
becomes russet, golden, scarlet and
before the geese leave the old river
and spirit south again.
Come with me through the
hole in the chain link fence,
down the path beneath the undergrowth
to where the sedges stand and the
sun of this October sinks beneath
these flaming hills.
A contest entry
- October by ea.
700 points, ended November 1, 2008, 34 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Great flow and imagery. I like 'interstitial' as the place where this becomes that, love the cycle of colours and life, and the invitation to travel through the hole, almost an Alice in Wonderland entry. Also the focus shifting from the fence all the way out to the sun.
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This is an actual place about two miles from my house and beside a Native American burial mound that was constructed circa 800 BC. Very powerful medicine there.
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Yes, the powerful medicine was apparent in the tone of your poem - beautifully realised.
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an alluring invitation to step into that netherworld waiting just at the edges of the old deer ridge. Nice work.
suggestion: check l. 2 for extra "becomes"
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Thanks. Redundant "becomes" excised.
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