"Nightwood or a poem on the occasion of unpicking the knot, fraught…" by CM Sears

Nightwood

or  a poem on the occasion of unpicking the knot, fraught…

By CM Sears

I am woods at night

seeking balance

between embattled branches

darkening bark-

loamy imperfections

shifting sighing moaning

deep harmonious aching.

I am the night woods’ music

of beetle legs’ whirring— 

fireflies blinking in code.

Moth wings still, flexing antennae tiny 

lashing, as if feather boas could flick 

your cheeks, my love. 

Silence is sterling, yet

complete silence makes

an uncommon goal, never attainable.

For even in the absence

of articulated sounds,

such as vocal folds murmuring,

air brushing against my bark

creates vibration, friction, eros’ kiss.

I am the keen of moonset,

Perpetual longing,

a weary lunar slip

nearly soundless. See that

grey goose quiet 

with head undertucked,

subsumed by her wing?

She knows truth. My breathing is 

polished by gossamer clouds

skating, my gaze draping

nonchalant to turns

of Grandfather Clock’s hands.

The moon dons her halo, 

a fraying cowl—weeping sap. 

Bark darkening

Branches embattled

Between them floats 

a brass key on burgundy

silken cord, knotted.

Heavy, wrought:

Pick the lock.

night in woods am I