| Scientist |
At ten years old I was free,
A scientist thing in skinny legs,
Brave in my steps,
I was a soldier at camp
I was camouflage in early morning,
The dew tickling my toes,
And sycamore trees
Passing me, in bare feet.
I was reborn in those hills
Behind my daddy’s house,
Solace was the shrill of a blackbird,
And coal stove smoke singing the air
It’s medieval shapes hanging a picture
In the sky, antagonist acrobat
Souring the purity in it’s bitter pungency,
But I only smelled the pine.
Life was there, sticky in my fingers,
I’d wind my way a trail,
I was the woods and sunlight
Baring her shadows through
Maple trees big enough to drown me,
I was nature, I was new.
I was the black beetle buzzing,
I was sassafras baking in the sun.
Appearing in Deeper Than Pink, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2009
A scientist thing in skinny legs,
Brave in my steps,
I was a soldier at camp
I was camouflage in early morning,
The dew tickling my toes,
And sycamore trees
Passing me, in bare feet.
I was reborn in those hills
Behind my daddy’s house,
Solace was the shrill of a blackbird,
And coal stove smoke singing the air
It’s medieval shapes hanging a picture
In the sky, antagonist acrobat
Souring the purity in it’s bitter pungency,
But I only smelled the pine.
Life was there, sticky in my fingers,
I’d wind my way a trail,
I was the woods and sunlight
Baring her shadows through
Maple trees big enough to drown me,
I was nature, I was new.
I was the black beetle buzzing,
I was sassafras baking in the sun.
Appearing in Deeper Than Pink, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2009
| ~A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough. She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially a spy. Dear love, I am that girl.~ Anne Sexton |
| Stacy Lynn Mar |