The sugared days of summer are gone,
And, just like that, you’ve slipped away,
Into the woods like a fox or a ghoul
That prowls the perimeter, seeking sweet mushrooms
On which to grow old and feast with your fears.
Now leaves bury footprints on the path.
They shiver at your careless touch,
Your mossy feet, their nails like moons
That slice the half-froze earth to bits,
And when you cry out for the warm honeyed winds
That used to carry you to sleep,
All you hear are moist things within,
Snaring your lungs, your pores, with their spores,
Threading you through with dark sweet poison
That will linger on, you a blot on the trail.

Shannon Cuthbert

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Shannon Cuthbert is a Brooklyn-based writer and visual artist. Her poems have appeared in Enchanted Conversation, Voices, The Mystic Blue Review, and Three Drops from a Cauldron, among others. 

Artwork: Laura Makabresku
Website: http://lauramakabresku.com/

31 Jan This entry was published on January 31, 2020 at 12:05 am and is filed under 40 (January 2020), Archive, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.