Earthwyrm
that summer not too long ago, we rode out to the edge of our world, toed the line, and stepped
beyond
it’s void, a sea of dark, and to traverse these numbered roads is something special, just for me and
you
we read tales of a formidable beast, one that devours wayward sailors as passage toll
the light from the city is eaten up entirely by distance, and you turn the wheel
headlights roll over something lambent, something red
reflector eyes, and dare I say, the beast
it weaves above, below, between, the mix of earth and sea - mud! deep, black mud
the serpent or wyrm or something else entirely must have come so far
and though we may not be sailors, something still is lost
tires spin in mud and the sky is nothing but a whirlpool, whisking up the stars, a sight to show true
oblivion
looking back, it’s easier to see that night, the gift of retrospect
stuck between two terrors: an endless unknown, or a wyrm within the Earth
all at once, time was lost, tossed into the mouth of the beast, a beginning to a six-course meal
the way was lost, perched on an incline leading into nothing, lined with straggled trees
every thought, of what lies even further down the road, is lost
as is recollection of the number of the road and how we found it
and with those things consumed in the moment, others take just a bit longer
a second home, it’s devoured too, because
eventually, time passes, through the wyrm or through the air, and you get taken too
snatched from the helm, but perhaps instead you jumped
leapt from land to sea, taken with the wyrm, you always loved the dark
and though I thought my lot was to see my friends again, the you I knew was swept away, and if I
can, I’ll let you go,
the page can pass you on, to the ferry, to the crested sea, to a place marked by violets and parsley
he will urge the memory to sleep, go home, bring peace
© Sabrynne Buchholz 2022
Originally appeared in Bear Country
