Winter Poems: 2

Haley Wooning

hillock, hill-wept billow
sorrows bellow below
the godshorn lands of
violets, as black-mawed
and crushable
as lament

I winter there,
nicked by the inconsolable
star: heroism
mangled in the doorway
of hands paled beyond
their own misunderstanding

sap, the self’s stark
  dolorous tree, pulled
by the immaculate wings
  of strangers. I madden
their obscurity, questless

knowing no belonging, though
I want for something, forgiveness
    contrived below the spectacle
of a moon-snout dusk

do I hear their collapse
or is it the weeping of animals?

the common rite the dreams distend
in waking
              defy nothing
the bow is weighed, judgement
is a feather and water leaves
no memory


Haley Wooning lives in California where she writes poetry. She has one book, Mothmouth, published by Spuyten Duyvil.