Caught

Strike at what you do not

Understand. Hit it hard

Enough and perhaps it will run,

Will show its back. A strange

Back cannot repay. With head

Bowed, the sun cannot illuminate

Its face and so create a soul.

You were born a stranger,

Live a stranger, die unknown.

Childhood is the act of balancing

Resentment and infatuation—

Safe to cast out bedlam

And cosset slow familiarity.

Safe to lose yourself

In crowds without shouting

Your name across the sacristy.

The bare mouth and nose,

Eyes and chin, her face and hair—

The features of a carefree dream,

Or a decoy carefully concealed?

I know what seethes beneath

The surf that bubbles spiraling

Behind your brow. Now the flick

Of your glance stands to raise,

Then with one stroke to fell

The harmony you once enjoyed

When you were lithe and green.

The wave-front swells with every

Iteration of your longing,

Every heavy-hooded stare.

Will you let her wander free,
Or will she trip your snare?

EJR