Miles to Go
starting with a Dickinson line (#83)
Heart, not so heavy as mine wending late home.
A thorn through the sole, my tortured gait home.
A leaden shadow is tethered to the heart.
Drag, drag . . . am I the bait or is the bait home?
Fend off the ravens. Gather feathers for hope,
broken twigs for nests—how we venerate home.
If love is a house, I’ve never slept in its rooms.
A thirty-mile trek, and we begin to hate home.
Gray winter solstice, frost on the bark and beard.
Darkness comes early as we slog the weight home.
Palms on my eyes, I stagger through the brambles.
It’s more and more difficult to locate home.
No porch light on. Beneath the doormat, no key.
No windows to break. Must we recreate home?
Scott Wiggerman is the author of three books of poetry, Leaf and Beak: Sonnets, Presence, and Vegetables and Other Relationships; and the co-editor of Wingbeats: Exercises & Practice in Poetry, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku & Haiga, Bearing the Mask: Southwestern Persona Poems, and Earthsigns, the anthology of 2017’s Haiku North America conference. Recent poems have appeared in Switched-on Gutenberg, brass bell, Modern Haiku, Chelsea Station, and Sin Fronteras.