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Pleas on Blocked Ears
The pleas that don’t reach
my beloved’s ears
refract a prism of light
over the lake with mulberry trees.
And geese hiss
and I am desperate.
In solitude, I walk into an indigo room
looking for a good book,
but instead I curl into
shadowy regrets.
Later I look at the stunning, blissful dome
of starlit sky,
wish for the return
of the red-winged black birds,
recall lost childhood days
spent traipsing through
an itchy meadow.
Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Most recently, she has contributed poetry to The Dawntreader, Meat for Tea, The Opiate, orange juice, The Stray Branch, The Nature of Things (Lone Mountain Literary Society), and more journals.
