Cold Valley
By Cedar Sigo
The fog
shades
a smooth
stone bust
then slips
into rain
my mind is
well suited
onyx
shining edges
the reflection
itself
*
Traces of
mist
on an old
window
*
The best part
is grinding
the ink down
endlessly, filling
my brush
grey morning
I first feel
the mind
as reflex
*
Bright and clear
The end of Evergreen road
is closed and crumbling away
Bill McNeil’s red poppy
resolves to be eaten alive
exposed to a shaft of air
between the flower and its flat glass-
masterful
*
The black bleeds out
from his beak
in long tears, ink onto
sopping head feathers
slicked back
black stiches on yellow
powdered eyes aglow
white speckles
thrown onto autumn
breast feathers
a white field
below
Copyright Credit: Cedar Sigo, "Cold Valley." Copyright © 2019 by Cedar Sigo. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow.
Source: PoetryNow (2019)