The sound of porcupine teeth
in the oak’s crown,
as lethal as mistletoe.
Ahead of me on the path,
the tracks of three deer
braiding and unbraiding.
I reach inside my coat
and find a twig. It’s happening
sooner than I thought.
Via Negativa
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
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(Haustorial: of, relating to, or having a haustorium. Haustorium: “the appendage or portion of a parasitic fungus (the hyphal tip) or of the root of a parasitic plant (such as the broomrape family or mistletoe) that penetrates the host’s tissue and draws nutrients from it.”)
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I love this poem.
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Thanks!
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I love it too. Great word, great poem. The last line of each triplet’s especially, quietly, powerful.
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Thanks! (And I welcome suggestions on what to call this poetic form of three unrhymed triplets or tercets. I think of them as 3/4ths because I’m consciously trying to avoid tying things up neatly at the end; I want them to remain open.)