August fog

Who was it
          that called your name
    thru the open window
                   in the dawn attic
                before anyone was awake

her voice
       came from the forest
   behind your grandfathers house
                that he built hairknuckled
            where the moose appear
                        at the end of the road
                    named after him

sawing cars in half
             piecing them together
       as one
                          that held carcasses
                    and prospered

you thought
        they were playing
     tricks on you

some would say
           it was just a memory
       of your mother
              you had a fever
           like always you
                  were burning up

it was all a dream
   is what they always said
but you knew then as you
        know now we
     were both right

47 thoughts on “August fog

  1. progbeawr831

    For me, it spoke Canadian to me. It regaled the north. Spoke of high winds that whistle then scream across our souls. Prominent words that have no audible voice but speak levels of powerful literary placement.

  2. John

    This was terrific. I felt a little anxious when I reached the bit about a fever because I just had a fever, hah hah.

  3. billremski

    I love the part about the Moose. That shit you write is pure surrealism. “Walk away, walk away, I will follow…”

  4. melimeli

    What a lovely style of poetry. Thanks for sharing. One person’s dream is often another’s reality, but with strength in our own convictions it doesn’t matter where that line is drawn.

  5. Steven Capps

    This is beautiful. I normally do not enjoy poetry because I find it hard to get a feel for the rhythm, but this is amazing. Great job. You definitely earned a new follower.

  6. Cocreator Ten

    You write nice poems. And I don’t even like poetry. Though I’ve written it all my life. Thanks for the like. That one’s been years in the making but only took a second to experience. Again, Thanks. Cc

  7. Andrea N Carr

    I like this poem, I have no clear idea what it means. But, it is inspiring my thoughts about it. I believe there is a child here now an adult. Hearing the voice of a lover where his mother was calling him before she died.

  8. Conner

    I’m glad to have come across you, this is a fantastic work and, to me, speaks to holding fast to a truth you know regardless of the doubts others will lay on you. Thank you for writing and sharing it.

  9. Nancy J

    I am so intrigued by your writing. Thank you. It spoke to me as a kind of grieving for something lost then found again. The imagery captivated me, carrying me along on the journey through a lonely, beautiful place.

  10. flahertylandscape

    ‘Her voice came from the forest…’ I was there but I did not hear. I must go there again. Thank you for the inspiration. Those things that we find in the forest–places dominated by plants.


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