The Place We Know

You bend as the boughs 
in the warmth of Autumn
bared naked to the 
colder nights or distant gaze
in her terrible honesty. 

She moves to sway you…
(not unlike the gentle breeze)
but breaks each brittle vein
in attempts to gain what little
lingers on each branch –

bending still in the aching
evening set quiet to your love.
Still you reach, r e a c h, r   e  a  c  h –
snapped before her feet and
thrown into the fire

where there your body heats
her crumbling castle. 
The place your yearning built
(the place I know you know)
so sadly, long ago.

©️Audrey Rosengreen, 2019

Here Again – I’m Here

It’s been a while…though
I can’t remember if this
introduction is the same.
It sounds similar under the
scraping of my nails against
Yorick’s skull. 

Sometimes it comes back to 
me in splintered little pieces
of bone and brick. Sometimes
it’s in the simplified
alliterations I use to qualify
as whatever this is. 

Shakespeare taught me nothing
I can write a mean sonnet,
but only when the world is
rhyme-less or enough of the me
in me comes meandering
to the top

of a freshly unearthed grave.
I wonder when this 
will end. The cycle, I mean.
And from the ground shall arise
a nameless fraud 
to the sound of suffocation.

 

©️Audrey Rosengreen, 2019