wanderings through a winter forest

by Kevin Kaiser

the gentle sway of sun-
light through the shadowed
leaves of winter-chilled
oak, hackberry, and smoke-
tree

my heart is colder than air;
centuries seem to slough
away between beats
like dead skin on silken
sheets

three mice lie frozen between
earth-gouging roots; I am
so weary of wearing worn
collars and shrunken long
sleeves

my ears are numb; I’m deaf,
I’m dumb, and the worm is
too stiff to turn this stale
soil into anything resembling
green

I’m squeaking out a leprous
life; none trust enough to touch
my knowledge, tactile as it is,
and so I smooth the rumples,
breathe

yes, I will, or no, I won’t—
what appeases, what releases
me from the dull pain of being
wrong or right; I’m sorry if I
seem…

yesterday, a cardinal, red as holly
berries, flew startled from my gold
leaf-crunching feet; today, I want
one thing so badly I swear I may
scream