Good morning, readers. Today’s poem comes from me. And all my dark, little underbelly areas. I hope you enjoy. Remember that I’m still accepting submissions for the “Wilderness of Soul” Anthology coming out this fall. Email me your name, a short bio, and up to three poems for consideration. Thanks!
And now, this:
Maker’s Hill We t2wo climbed Maker’s Hill In the cold calm Where quiet winds spoke our truth Before we signed our names Straight lines, Blood ink. We t2wo climbed Maker’s Hill Your hand warm in mine Nary a tremor, Showing the branches above The strength of spirit On first steps towards Home Lightning our baggage Before setting off. We t2wo climbed Maker’s Hill For to lay in a sea of damp grass And share the sharp ticket First you, then I. Then we. Listening with fingertips As your pulse beats into the dirt And feeling the fading light As flesh calmly goes cold. We t2wo climbed Maker’s Hill In the breaking heart of dawn The resolution The only thing we’ve ever Been sure of. We t2wo climbed Maker’s Hill We thre3 did not return.