John Swain

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Totem Rock

Trees rotted the totem markings
years ago
then passers scraped away rocks
and took carvings of crows and turtles
as saltpeter crystallized on the wall.
Time swallows our dream of being
like a river silked in oblivion.
At the height of the hill,
I could see the leaves catch like sails
above the indifferent ferns,
I wrapped a stone with a frond
and pressed my palms together,
the living image remains to fade.

 

 

 

The Courtesy of Address

Below the light
clouds of rain mixed with the lake,
all was white,
I could taste
the waves of sedation like a bone.
Water spilled
from your thimble
onto the ground,
we relinquished the courtesy of address,
but I am speaking
to disarm myself.

 

 

 

Peeling Madras

I lean my head back
against the wall of peeling madras.
Roses explode
and trees burst electric green
against the sepia light
of a summer thunderstorm.
Lavender candles burn
for someone else,
it doesn't rain
inside the arch you are.