Pin It

Cliché 

When the axe slipped this morning
I went quickly inside
Washed away the blood to see the damage
And studied the back of my hand

It was less familiar than I thought
There was this expectation: its geography as
Familiar as a joke told thin
A line so memorized it's lost its meaning

Only looking at the territory
Surveying the forest of fine hairs
The veinous hills and two freckles pointing north
I felt as if I had just awakened

Felt as if the hand I turned this way toward the light
Was something magical in its pain
And as I placed the bandage over the wound
I felt the tug of sails unfurling

And recognized where the edge of the world began

Tags: ,

  • Pin It
  • When the axe slipped this morning I went...

Speaking of Poem

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

About The Author

David Holper

more from the author

Latest in Poetry

© 2015 The North Coast Journal Weekly

Website powered by Foundation

humboldt