dash
 Across the Road
 
They watched me from across the road,
two women with the heads of birds,
hawks, I think, or maybe ravens.
In the shadows it was hard to tell.
They watched me, though I donít know
why, watched as I gathered stones,
which felt cold and smooth in my hands.
I made a pile, built it up like a cairn
to mark the spot where my father
disappeared. Then they were gone,
and I could feel the weight of their eyes
lifting, and something inside me unfroze,
and I dug and dug in the hardened earth
until my fingers bled. I climbed into the hole,
slipping down a long way. A river ran past
my feet, black water lapping at the banks.
It was eternal night, and somehow the moon
glistened, spreading out across the eddy,
sparkling where rapids pelted the jagged shore.

 
 
Steve Klepetar

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Steve Klepetar would be pleased to hear them.
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