I had a sudden realization the other day: I write poems, and those poems have a place on Story by the Throat! I posted one here once, but I generally share them elsewhere on the web. I’m going to start sharing them here as well, when I feel they’ll enrich the mysterious and wonderful cloud of what SbtT! is all about.
Hello, everyone! Annie and I have moved out to her family farm in Warren, OR. Yesterday we spent our first night out there, and this is the result:
And so we fled And came to the farm house late at night Parking on the grass And flipping on lights That had long lain dormant And little Niamh giggled and ran through every room And we followed, indulgent Reluctant to break the spell
And walking outside The stars loomed close Hanging just above my head Dancing, singing, shining Through an atmosphere of peace And I stood and stared And all but kissed them
And Annie nursed the child And the quiet stole our breaths And we whispered in reverence And Annie sang and the child slept And later, so did we
And in the wee hours I alone awoke Out of weary duty And made the drive Over that wide and tree-encrusted highway Wonder-struck at the painted sunrise That you only see out there Where we have fled But I bid it farewell and drove My foot still smarting Where I kicked the gate In the dark, fumbling with chains Chains that bind us still