They've taken their words, tongue, teeth, and the rest.
I'm left with no book to follow, a trackless forest.
I would savor dew-fall and heart-mist instead
walk the hours through body-song and black forest,
I would choose stones to take their places
set them up on hill and grass over sleeping forest,
I would mind the stars, tend their fading,
talk myself through the knotted green forest,
I would bring them home if I could read the forest.
They've taken their words too deep—the forest.
TERRY OFNER grew up in Iowa not far from the Mississippi River. He holds degrees in English and English education from the University of Iowa where he attended the Iowa Writers' Workshop in poetry as an undergraduate. He is currently an editor for an educational publishing company. He has published poems in World Order, 100 Words (Garden Issue), Right Hand Pointing, and Eclectica.