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Criminal thoughts of High walls

by Carissa Dewey

Ancient layers-
red.
clay, blood, burned, deep, dark,
walls. distinct.
and the sky gaping
a pathetic blue,
competes with this rock-
which more breathtaking.

and here we are
at our night’s dwelling
“split rock.”
history abounds here
a fire pit’s endless blaze in time
here.

It’s only the two of us tonight.
are we to fall in love-
as we warm near the fire,
as we sit miles alone.

and as we drink
will my conversation about rivers,
my childhood, my being in nature, my
passion of words- will it be real.

because I’m always hiding, holding, gripping-
underneath this tongue.

These feelings.

will our hike
into the yawning canyon
create a silence between us,
and will it remind me of you.

and the gold garnished leaves
at the floor of
a sick creek,
will their perfect order
awaken me and will I ingest them
weave them-
then regurgitate them
as they journey throughout
my body.


the ancient aroma
a place like this harbors,
it will strain a fear in me, my love
and I will feel an eerie fever
seep through a void.

And if I told you this,
would you listen?

04/07/2008

Posted on 04/07/2008
Copyright © 2021 Carissa Dewey

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/08/08 at 04:02 AM

I love how you bring so much great imagery to what's both a basic and very profound question. Well done.

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 04/11/08 at 05:53 PM

Lots of sharp imagery. Appears, indicated by the last line, to be about relationship.

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