Logo

The Backwoods






The Backwoods 

 

I knew a girl more intimately than my life

before her knew wasted time. I 

knew the nightingale and moon that perished

 
and were reborn in her voice; knew 

the high school auditorium that crumbled 

in her absence, its bleachers like 

 
the belch of ogres too. I knew the Pabst 

Blue Ribbon that would not make 

an effort to know me, but next to her 

 
the bonfire suddenly gave me the time 

of day. I knew her name that split 

my conscience like a Bible, 

 
geraniums that brawled for 

her affection and to prove the soil 

wrong. I knew a sea of mediocrity, 

 
main street in a harsh moonlight until 

she arrived beneath a lime tree in 

the lime light all the time. (I knew bad 

 
mouths, I knew last meals; but I don’t 

do maudlin.) I knew the kind of 

lucky accident it’s killing me to think 

about, but never her bed’s backwoods. 
 
 
Jake Sheff

Post a Comment

0 Comments