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Marianne Paul ~ 2


leaving tracks

before i die i want to know the tracks
of the other passersby - wolf, fox
cougar, bear, deer, jackrabbit
those who have come and gone
before me, the secretive
the memory of their presence
pressed into the softness
of the riverbank
into the dampness of the trail
into the sinking acceptance
of the snow
ghosts to my human eye
although maybe they watch me
even now from the undergrowth
the inner spaces of the trees
and cave openings
camouflaged in plain sight
wearing nature like i wear a coat
the tiny ones too, light on their feet
the scrawls of the chickadees and the chipmunks
the voles and the mice, those that scurry
for safe covering into the thatch and scratch
of the briars, the brave ones that dash
across the open expanse heart beating life and death
risking the shadow overhead
marking the ground
of their passing




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desert winds

poetry women tell women
in those places of trust and gatherings
where the moon moves through cycles
full as a mother's breast and then as empty
where wild poppies sway white as virgin, pink as pout
crimson-bruised as first sex
where mountains rise and fall like breath
catch with the sharp clear edges of pain and childbirth
the rugged beauty too
where words and sorrows are communal
without tags of authorship, ownership, copyright
for who owns the desert winds and the sandstorms
escapes the fighting season
hasn't held a broken body in her arms
and wailed
 

wisdom

sprouted communities
with ironic names that mimic nature
misplaced sentimentality
harkening of woods, meadows, wetlands
the deep, the dark, the moist
poetic street signs
epitaphs to past place, past earth
ghost flora, ghost fauna
forests that shimmer like shadow
just beyond touch  
replaced in the here and now
with park-ettes
splash pads instead of ponds
mulch and day-lilies and saplings
perfectly placed
un-sown by root and wind nor carried
as seed by fur or feather
to set down home in unexpected places
propagate with wild, untamed efficiency
and inexplicable wisdom
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