Cold water comfort
sweet forest home
for secret wide-eyed water-darters
now a tangle-rooted knife
upon the page
Would the devil wear you
around his fiery waste
as he prowled among the shore?
Let the waves push that
unwelcome long fellow back
into the deep,
where time’s corruption waits
Just one more left in my Anna Atkins’ cyanotype ekphrastic series! Last poem will run tomorrow. Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio 