the bag lady of boone

by on July 13, 2023 :: 0 comments

black snake around her wrist
copperhead around her cane
she can appear anywhere
curiosity and superstition call her

she weaves tales of main street
ancient days framed in black and white
trysts with grandfather mountain flash
in the lightning of her eyes
she’s dreamed ursa
relegated her to the sky
stars are atoms escaped from bone

she feeds on energy
the consciousness of evening
takes all as she passes
leaves a stolen sweet white trillium
the smell of green apples
to waft in the air
then only the voice of creek remains

editors note:

Give way, lest you be taken, too. – mh clay

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