©2021 Michael Raven

tonight i am old
it is writ there on the screen:
i am old old old old
ancient & trapped in dream
lay the bread & milk out
a thimbleful of wine
the nights grow long
the nights grow cold
the nights lose all time

i am old
i think i have said so before
but the years move in spirals
& the skies look different to
me today today, not like my youth

-- i could see stars once, hunter
the belt tied tight, i saw
this willows speak in wind
hanging their hair in sorrow --

wytchwood winds singing
i recall from my youth
stalking the wilderness the forest
spirit wolves howling drunk
on mead
i am old i am old i am old

her lace, becalmed in stormy waters
tripping through the tall grass meadow
heath in her hair flannel grey black plaid
and the sea, foam green bewixt &
milk white thighs i heard her sing & it
was a heavenly thing
but my eyes, drawn to that soft skin

how old i am these times, so much
forgotten & the joints ache in winter
without her fingers to kneed

i am old i am old i am old
a revenant howling for flesh to
sing again, i am
torn asunder needing a kiss to
put me back together again

you cannot know
these long nights mine
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

3 thoughts on “revenant/

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