I was lost
     again.

Among the birches……..

Unforgiving      majestic
     in their      haughtiness
         in their
unspoken monotony

Rucksack…empty      I think
     except those iffy berries
          unrecognizable and bitter

A little dizzy now

In a Dali painting without
          light or heat,
     the blinding snow
The silent trees

Pushing forward (or in a circle)
     I cannot be sure
A false light      only the moonstruck
          trees
Starless grey sky
          nothing to go by

Faint footsteps behind
               or the sound of my
Heart beating      still      toes throbbing
          In a hopeless rhythm

No nuts left to munch on
     but behind me
               vague footfalls
stop and go as I try to listen
          as I try to orient myself
     childhood dreams enter      too much
                    push on
sleepy now           the crack of a gun?
    Or a birch laughing in not so silent
Taunting
      Haunting
          And then?

The nightmare
          now trudging

Nowhere to go to go to go

Push on under the pale light of the
    Inhuman moon cold and distant
        Its chill ricocheting across the razor
            Straightness of the birches the birches
The birches

Pencil beginning to fade now

And then      a new smell
     and upon my face
          the sweat of prey
    Across my brow

          And then…….
                         …..
                           …

 

Dale G. Haake is the former poet laureate of the Quad Cities region (eastern Iowa and western Illinois). He was born near Chicago and has degrees from Augustana College, the Sorbonne, and the University of Illinois (JD). He lives between Spain and the US.