Silence in the Afternoon

Silence in the afternoon burns

 brittle holes in the cloth

 

of time.  I suppose it could be desire

rising through impatient flesh

 

 

of knotted hands, those slow strides

through shade-mottled grass, and envy

of breath and waiting

flame.

 

I was all for the sun then, its fiery gaze

on my face and neck, and lake

water ablaze with light.

Once I rowed a pale blue

boat through hanging willow screens

and leaped full

blown into the dizzy mind of frogs.

About the Author:
Steve Klepetar’s work has appeared widely and has received several Pushcart and Best of the Net nominations.  His latest chapbook is “Thirty-six Crows,” published by erbacce-press.

Tagged poetry