August 14, 2017

Poetry: “Mithridate”

I have forgotten
How to unlearn
Your topography

Mountains
Canyons
Cliffs
Etched inside
My mind’s rolled parchment

Chartered territories
Call to me
in wind-driven voices:
“Come home.”

Crooked-finger landmarks
Beckoning
Until I lose my scent
To adopt
Your rugged-pine fragrance
Each breath
The mithridate
To my love-poisoned lungs

I will not find you there.

***

vanilla-mountain

Vanilla Mountain © Jane Bled

“Mithridate” 

© Jane Bled


“I didn’t tell him that I grew up in an ugly city that taught me how to look between dust and rubbish and potholes to find a splinter of glass that looked like unmelting ice, beautiful in its defiance of the sun.”
― Kamila Shamsie, Kartography

But I told you.

A patent pleasure to be read — of that, gratitude is certain.

Namaste.


Jane