Monny's Womb

December 15, 2011
my house, not home
neighbors the forest’s end
or maybe it begins there

ranting mother
protective father
yelling in unison
“steer clear of the woods!
you’ll drown in there!”
their eyes stalking me

night trances beckon for a visit
stay forever
to not return to my house
upon the forest’s end
(or maybe it begins there)

the years passing
lingering thoughts
what lies in those woods

age seven; there were fairies
fourteen told me werewolves
vampires
love stories

no time for foolish fables
at eighteen and beyond
savage animals
disease carrying insects
poisonous plants
house there

science
they call it
and still as an adult
magic radiates from that forest
through my window, to my eyes, in my house upon the forest’s end

emerging past the border
of life, and those woods
superior life
the hack-berries
sycamores
willows
wind down to praise me

a subtle commitment takes air
fluttering; a butterfly

we eloped that day
wedded by the cascara tree

a honeymoon
in the flower beds
we’ll be wedded
we’ll be
dear forest





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