executioner's song
By Holly Wotherspoon
birdsong bludgeons the morning. what love wants
after last night is the vacant lot next door where
sound used to be. your buzzing wires are taut. my
invisible lines finely spoken. we arrive at the junction box
where harmless flirtation goes in comes out electrified
and deadly. we chase the quiet with a broom as it flies
in the gaping front door. home slams shut and now the
thing between us is trapped-silent. i feel its million tiny
bites. i trill my apology for supper.
Holly Wotherspoon is an adoption attorney living and writing in the rolling hills north of San Francisco, after returning from an extended sojourn in the Pacific Northwest. She is a poet, naturalist, and irreverent art tour guide. A member of River Town Poets, she loves writers’ retreats and reads her poems around the North Bay area. Her publications include forthcoming poems in Unbroken and Mulberry Fork Review as well as incredibly boring articles in legal journals.
© 2015