The Deer-hunter’s Lament

nest

*image found HERE

The Deer-hunter’s Lament

I had a dream;
my pale hands
were in a nest
twirling for stealing
eggs.

My other hand,
my right hand
is mispelling social constructs.

My soul thinks
that it is at a
spelling bee.

Where are we?
It’s neither purgatory
nor a circle of hell
or golden gates in heavenly
fluff,
it’s not in Shambala.
And nothing is ever enough.

My left wing got stripped
so a sailor
could get a tattoo
of a crescent Moon.
It always felt like I will leave you soon

so I had to say everything,
like a music box
about to
run out of batteries;
analogue flesh.

I was teaching a garden
how to speak binary,
I was whispering to roses
in Morse code,
I was translating tea
to kilometers.

I had a flock of birds
and I stabbed them all with a fork
and then set them free.

I wounded,
and it was not innocent,
the grape was all mine,
I was the vintners daughter,
the sky soared into me.

I dreamed I learned how to count
to ten,
one number by each,
slowly,
like ballet
and
in the dream,
my hands,
so pale,
in the nest
twirling for stealing
eggs.

I never learned to wait.

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~ by Oloriel on April 20, 2019.

12 Responses to “The Deer-hunter’s Lament”

  1. You use words in such a surprising way! To be honest I am not sure what this poem means, but it gets my attention. “I was translating tea to kilometers” is probably my favorite line.

    • Thank you very much for reading, I am hoping that the poem is taken however the reader likes and feel free to connect their own meaning. I hadn’t much to say, for me, as a writer, the curtain was simply blue.

  2. I liked the last line about learning to wait and these: “I had a flock of birds
    and I stabbed them all with a fork
    and then set them free.” I hope the birds could fly away.

  3. This is a journey of being a sinner, to do everything wrong, and hoping in the end that all will be right… I think for many it is… I think about PTSD of wars too and the title of the poem made me think of the film

  4. Ти си јединствена, мораш бити у антологијама савремене поезије! 😉

  5. This is classy and it delivers.

  6. “and nothing is never enough”.

    fine work ~

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