Goat's Delight
The yellowed moon hangs low,
a pendant swung from night's cold neck,
blind platinum stare bent
blinkless on the baleful earth
where simpering dawn is frozen in
pink slippers on the hill.
Last night the bloodglow of the sun
gave false fire to the anorexic trees,
scarlet-purpled sheets of light
burning hope to killed music,
all that once was dancing
turned ash on a shifting wind.
Only the goat-woman is left,
the greyed-out girl
covered in indigo roadmaps traced
by her traveling heart, denim-fade eyes
croned to clouds,
still raking coals ablazewith the crooked stick of memory
wild in her wavering hand, feral
as a goat indiscriminately devouring
all the broken cities of the years,
following a random hunger
up to this winter hill
where she sits remembering
how to be free;
a prisoner on the edge
of her skinwalking escape.
January 2026
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Images : Moonrise, 1884 ©Stanislaw Malinowski Fair Use
Soulmates ©Kseizycolica Fair Use
An enchanting poem! I love the use of colour throughout, pendant metaphor, the ‘anorexic trees’, and the ‘crooked stick of memory wild in her wavering hand’ – great use of alliteration.
ReplyDeleteJoy, your poem will linger ~ a good thing. Especially the goat-woman tending embers. A complex poem, asking the reader to stop a while, listen. And, it's a 'joy' to read you after so long.
ReplyDeleteYou had me with the first two amazing lines. And then your description of Goat-Woman. I enjoyed this very much!
ReplyDeleteHiya Hege. 'Tis elegant beyond measure and leisure to propound in fatal witchlight the elemental fuse of memory stalking the old landscape. How delicate that dire moon, dem frosty slippers. Yes, whatelsearewegonnado but the bleed of life still thirsts, only if it is our mouths which feed from at our recollection? Plenty of no-time for ghosting the nothing which waits ahead. And I see ample starlight in the narrow vantage still visible here. Best.
ReplyDeleteSuch beautiful--and yes, as Brendan writes, "elegant" poetry. Gorgeous imagery!
ReplyDelete"Last night the bloodglow of the sun
gave false fire to the anorexic trees"
I adore the two opening lines and the rest follows in kind. I especially like "the crooked stick of memory." You never say anything in dull language, with you the phrasing is always fresh, original, and striking. I sympathize with the tone of reaching a gray place, but you express it so elegantly. Rock on, my Cappy BFF.
ReplyDeleteI love the references in this.... to me the goat will always make me think of the devil, and those skinwalkers the evil ghost of Navajo.... the connection to nature and moon also connects to me the fear of darkness... and now you make me think of some Iron Maiden as well... thank you for the visuals.
ReplyDeleteWeird. The imagery does suggest evil shapeshifting ghosts and at the same time the literal sense of the poem suggests an ordinary old woman hoping for reincarnation. Schrodinger's Character--is it real? human? mythical?
ReplyDeleteSo much gorgeous imagery in this, Joy! I love that first stanza especially with the moon hanging like a pendant from night's cold neck, and how dawn is simpering in pink slippers on the hill! Just wonderful. And these lines:
ReplyDelete"the greyed-out girl
covered in indigo roadmaps traced
by her traveling heart"
Stunning 💖
“a pendant swung from night’s cold neck.” Nicely done 👏
ReplyDeletesuch a vivid scene, as we downslope the return to the dark ages. perhaps it would have been easier had we not seen the bright promise of day. sorry to have been so absent, Joy. but you know. (in other news, my quarterly health report shows no worsening, for which I am grateful.) ~ M
ReplyDeleteLots of wonderfully descriptive imagery here.
ReplyDelete