You Are A Scorching Salve

I am a tall order,

tree-high,

neatly bleeding

pollard style,

lumberjack-ravaged,

pickaxe-stark.

Your balm

soothes, burns

the lingering sting,

lip-sap applied

to skinned knees

and elbows, sticky

over wild initials

carved graffiti-soft,

forest-deep.

tk/January 2012

Listen to R.A.D. Stainforth's excellent reading:

(I say sah-ve...he says sal-ve)

Visit his intelligent and eclectic blog Black Dogs.

image: River, Marina Moevs, 2005
Join The Mag creative writing group here.