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Still Life
by Kristina Woodhill
A month since he hung me up here
I, noble elk head, eyes open skyward
Antlers mimic, rubbing leafless poplar branches,
Never to rebud
A breeze and I joust lazily, impotent thrusts,
I, puppet unstrung but for that last knot
Essence drained
Drank in descending drip, drops
Browning earth below swallowing scarlet autumn
Before winter's slumber
Even the ticks
Are gone
The hunter's horse peers at me over his fence,
Confiding, whispers of a recurring dream
Waking disembodied, its grand head
Beside a flailing, hysterical Italian thug
Four hens from their corner pen
Cluck, cluck daily at my predicament
Becoming quite outwardly content
At their claustrophobic confinement
Bored of these domestics
I scan the expansive blue
Seeking clouds running freely
Through whirling fog banks of upswept spruce
Seeking clouds ringing out
Fresh rinse waters from a heavy laundry
On cold clear nights
I challenge Orion
Spooked
By his incessant circling;
He, concerned
At my most unusual point of departure,
Invites me to his gods' mythic party,
The glitter of souls spread out, ever enlarging
Uneasy, noting his sparkling sword's sheen
Recently honed by the Orionids,
I decline
Choosing, instead, much to my own surprise,
My assigned winter's meditation
11/27/2012
Author's Note: An elk head hanging next door in a tree for a week is a hunter's habit, an elk head hanging for over a month just gets creepy
Posted on 11/27/2012
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 11/27/12 at 08:07 PM Oh lady you bring back such memories of my time in Wyoming, meals of elk and bison. A very nice write except for the sadness I feel for the death of such great beasts who nature better than we ever shall. Lovely!! |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 11/27/12 at 08:43 PM This is wonderful. I had to read it again after reading your author's note. I think my favorite stanza is S3. |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 11/27/12 at 11:36 PM Taxidermy came to mind immediately, until the authors note; then the image I envisioned become more grim.
I do love what you got out of it, as I'm not one to shy away from the grotesque. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 11/28/12 at 02:14 AM ...sorta always wondered what they were think since they have a long time to do so...great heavy-cute write, kristina |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 11/28/12 at 02:30 AM You wrote that story with such vivid vision. I was right there. I love the way you do that to me!!! |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 11/28/12 at 01:53 PM Ev en though I am basicially a city woman, I can appreciate nature- the portrait you painted here is wonderful. A great read-thanks! |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 11/28/12 at 03:13 PM Another *STELLAR* poem...
(thank you very much for this gem) |
| Posted by Timothy Burns on 01/21/13 at 07:52 PM I read this over and over. It speaks to me on so many levels! If this were made into a full length story then I would never want to put it down! |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 01/24/13 at 12:01 PM it is becoming increasingly clear with each posting Kristina, that you have nature coursing in your blood, I on the other hand have only the smog of confounding metropolis as fodder. |
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