1:30AM in the Untroubled Fen

morning fen

1:30AM in the untroubled fen,
I walk until my knee finds barbed wire.
Someone somewhere in a world of seven billion
is running a guided meditation at this moment
and I’m not there bleeding on the floor;
I’m in a sandy clump of paradise
with the moon glaring down because
I’ve managed to find the only way to ruin it.
A sheep on the other side of the fence
whispers to another that blood attracts predators,
and watching from their tiny smoky room,
the group consider the meaning of their shared experience.
What was the meaning of the woman bleeding in the field?
Why the mockingbird? Why the burning cornfield over the hill?
Why the empty eggshell on the path?
Why the uncurled geranium losing petals
on a distant porch?

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