OUTSIDE THE GATE
Outside the unsealed gate,
you harvest the vine rows
and pour offering,
the sky spirals like a ram’s horn,
the dry hillside ignites
like a javelin.
We map black sunlight
on parchment
for the dedication of a well.
The wine refreshes our lips
parted by sun
and the smoke of rosemary.
John Swain lives in Le Perreux-sur-Marne, France. His most recent chapbook, The Daymark, was published by the Origami Poems Project.
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems
Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles