When I Step from My Body
I will leave the black grapes tongued
from the vine by the wild dog,
you know his name. I will leave
the speckled vase filled with wild
thistle we found together. I
will leave the wild man on the street,
his hat so big it sat on his shoulders,
oh, his savage stick. You wouldn’t
see him. I will leave the wild
lights wicking the falling candle,
so many dead. I will leave
and leave like a tree, its wild heavings,
softly tumultuous as I leave
this blessing.
Lois Marie Harrod’s 17th and most recent collection Women was published in February 2020 by Blue Lyre Press. She is continually published in literary journals and ezines from American Poetry Review to Zone 3. Visit her online work at www.loismarieharrod.org.