By Laura Eklund
All of your secrets I blew
like a leopard out of a black bag
so still in his last words.
Blackness becomes rooted in eyes
littered with pigeons.
The silence sits in the walls.
The beach is enamored of moonlight dusk.
Bridges cross to the future
memories settle with no memories.
The voice escapes within.
Twilight is a plea.
His blindness enraptures the tide
of a moon so still
so shallow in its grave
the forgotten memory of a hand.
About the poet:
Laura Eklund is an artist and poet. She lives and works in Olive Hill, KY, with the poet George Eklund, and has four children with him, Waylon, Thomas, Fiona, and Marina. Laura also paints. Her favorite things to do include reading and writing poetry and spending time with my family.
Laura’s works have appeared in many journals including ABZ, Black Warrior Review, Southern Women’s Review, Pegasus, and Slipstream. And her poetry collection, Song of Lisbon, came out recently from Wind Publications. More can be found out about Laura at www.lauraeklund.org or she can be followed on Facebook at The Art of Laura Eklund.