Issue Six

Winter 2013

 

The black stag – Lascaux

 


Cave-blind, captured mid-bellow.
Shadowed antlers reach
for a memory of night,
piercing stars, tearing constellations.

They drew him from the earth,
made him dance with fire.
The light was long ago, yet
a warmth of yellow recalls
a back bright with sun.

Was he ever bestowed a body?
A vagueness suggests it; in dreams he runs
with the wild hunt, but on waking it fades,
he becomes a vessel, an upturned cup
rattling out the bone dice of men and deer alike.

 

______________________

John Nash

 

 

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