Leaving An Unlistening Life

An owl swivels in her carriage of primordial haunts.

In her padlocked church of trees.

She knocks against night-forest scars,

blithely written in frost and the weight of oak, her sorrowful gagged companion.

Claustrophobic caresses of furtive tree voices stroke

the few unseeing guests who tentatively venture and retreat,

in their torchlight.

 

 

A wandering man falls from his unlistening life into a scratched lap of thorns, laughing beyond his dark.

Fading into a blank page of hunger, he trespasses across dense woodland, past its muted constituents, who congregate

in his presumptuous everywhere.

Evading humble patient rabbit holes, he carries the intangible

abyss bowl of night in his arms, beyond his comprehension, beyond his dormant dark.

Foy Timms

Foy Timms is a poet/writer based in Reading, Berkshire, U.K. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Fevers Of The Mind Poetry Digest, Hypnopomp, North of Oxford, Peeking Cat Poetry, Pulp Poets Press and Twist In Time among others. She is preoccupied with British towns/villages, social exclusion and the sociopolitical dimensions of living spaces.

Share

Leave a Reply

Related Articles

Go With The Flow

Crying under a shower of rain makes you think the whole world is weeping with you. Standing under an Autumn tree makes you think the

Read More

Tree of Christmas

The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up  a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories

Read More