Antlered Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


I see an antlered man everywhere I go.

 

All the time.

 

He is a mean man. And a nice man. He is a mean man that has to behave nicely. Or perhaps the opposite. I don’t know.

 

He is very tall.

He is very fair.

Hemlock leaves cover his hair.

 

There is something in the way he moves. . . a sultriness, perhaps. Other times he is very still. Like a doe. Waiting. Watching. He knows where I am.

 

I’m not afraid of this man. Indeed, the opposite. I crave his touch. I wish he would come closer. I smell him. . . like morning dew. . . or mist after it rains. I want him to replenish me. Guide me out of this forrest. This labyrinthine maze.

 

I say,

 

“Please take my hand. I want to leave this place. I don’t know where I am. I want to go home.”

 

He nods and leads the way. . .

 

I follow. . . but always lose track. . .

 

There are mawed prints where he steps.

 

I follow those instead.

 

This green man. This tall man. This antlered man. He is here to help me. If only I were more like him. . . he could.


Submitted: November 01, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Jacob Proctor. All rights reserved.

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Poem / Poetry