Poetry of Issue #7        Page 53

From The Eyes Of Wolves

from the eyes of wolves
growling
i finally understood
the nature of not
listening
who made these words?
when did they arrive in our midst?
in a hidden magazine
in the back
of a lower left hand drawer
crushing
lawyers and princes
running
lost in a DC alley
always something to lie about
i saw them
chasing you
you who were so graceful
running
in the park
to see the fountains
moving faster
avoiding the spies
sneaking around celebrities
looking for a way to stay pure
to stay inconspicuous

then a meteoric flash
when the tree near you got hit
they all said it was
lightning
but who controls the outer view?
no one left to drain out the darkness
where the slow birds
bend their wings

  John Silver