Cartography II
listen
Whenever possible
I close my eyes if a direction
is called for, turning
here, now Here, now There.
If signs point the way, I double
back and cover my tracks; if the road
seems familiar I accelerate
over the cliff. This is not
a place for maps - delineations
are swept across the dunes
by the circumnavigating
stars. Who would
ever find their way to
such a wilderness? The creek
flows uphill, the birds
are flying
kites, the august wind
is heard gasping
for air. As for
the mountains, well
they simply do not
resist. And every time
a guest arrives, the landscape
shifts, waving like an old
woman on a summer porch
swing whose smile is a warm,
welcome home. Maybe I dreamed
finding you this way,
rolling over into your
awakening, eyes blinking
and murmuring softly
something about a body
of snakes entwined,
inseparable. No, no
one has been here
before; not precisely.
It might be
said that I am
lost.
Copyright © 2007 by Mary Ann Schaefer
All work owned by individual author and should not be reproduced without permission.
