On Scraps of Sound

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“I said to Dawn: Be sudden – to Eve: Be soon; With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over from this tremendous Lover –” Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven, 1917

On Scraps of Sound poem by Darlene Witte

I long heard your laughter,
your bubbling, roaring mirth
a sky-ringing descant,
a wild echoing arc.
I followed you home, relentless
I sought
until you found me.

I was
your morning sacrifice.
Across the stone of release I lay, stunned
that you would meet me, knife
in hand.

You ran
your blade deep,
my star-heat
my bones
their strength back
into my right foot, the single cold foot
that stepped me toward you
on that first morning when
Joy caught fire.

Darlene Witte
Darlene Witte

Professor of Education, (retired) at Johnson State College in Vermont leads the Green Mountain Writers' Poetry & Performance workshop that meets on Zoom each month on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays at 7 PM ET. Find out more at https://www.meetup.com/green-mountain-writers

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