Hollow by Robert Beveridge

Sap drips
from the blades
of pine needles
that surround us
as we lie
on the Navajo blanket
grandmother brought
back from New Mexico

the pine
has been eaten by something
leaves a crevice
where we rest our heads

a dry sanctuary
from expected rain

I carve our initials
inside the shell
before we leave
surround them
with traditional heart
and arrow

a first moment
of love
solid as pine.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Blood and Thunder, Feral, and Grand Little Things, among others.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.