Holy City of Byzantium

Home » poetry » In the Woods

In the Woods

Advertisements

by Leonard Nathan (1924 – 2007)

Night, and a candle guttering on the table.
Three low stools.  Father spoons
his mush, growling just a little now.
Mother intently watches her men.

Am I the only one who hears the cry? –
a scared girl stumbling on and on
through the dark and dripping woods, hungry, cold.
But yellow hair, so not our kind.

Speech beyond us still, we growl softly,
nuzzle, and – our claws retracted – stroke.
Father scrapes the bowl. Mother, rising,
sighs me far away and lost.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Archived posts

%d bloggers like this: