joannebest











{May 29, 2013}   Chewing On The Marrow

wooodspinebswooksbike

i’d walk through the woods year-round,
the ones up the street, before they tore down my playground
tender-skin innocent and full of wonder
gonna-be-in-trouble-for bare feet sinking and dragging deep into sandy soft clay
slipping through the pines like a pirate queen
splitting twigs from white birch
and chewing on the marrow,
savoring the almost-taste of birch beer in the near-night,
one eye on the streetlights
calculating the race home and ready to run

i buried a piece of me deep in the weeds back then,
memorized the map in case i forgot me

you found me there that late summer night
innocence bruised and a pocketful of wonder
like one of those heroine girls in a juicy beach-read
you found me flushed and breathless
the uncontrollable reaction you wore curled around me snake-like
pulling me closer to the fire

you leaned me against my tree,
strong and weathered and huge from feeding on all my secrets
humid air thick and heavy
pre-dawn quiet muggy
and when you kissed me
you almost tasted like birch beer
with a little bit of mischief mixed in
nightandday

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Andy says:

I love the woods.
Think I would make a wonderful pagan. In another life maybe.



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