Jun 282010
by Anne Bromley
Sorry, Artemis,
I don’t want to hunt
with you this doesn’t mean
I don’t love you
emerging from green
as the dark unknown
fades behind you
alpha bitch you
guide me faithfully
flanked by your giant hounds
when I need
courage to be alone
display how strong
bare arms gather
a huge eye of energy
able fingers
pinching string
drawing back
chord taut
zero in
let go
I feel
the breeze
of your arrow’s flight
rushing straight to my
wretched head it cuts
loathsome fears doubts
dries up troubled tears
I become the goddess of deer
scatter their stories
of long trails meadows
the body’s wild memories
I still glimpse you
through fall trees at dusk
taste your fresh
temptation
gulp your laurel
breath death
doesn’t mean
you don’t love
me
