FLIGHT

I vaulted the west wall and fled
Unpursued, save by my own haunts and dread
Across an absinthe sea of tall grasses
My heart driven, thumping twice,
Thrice with each fleeing footfall.

The treeless plain lay without contour
Tediously patient, deviously inviting
As though distant mountain, enormous
Looming purple phantom, great deceiver,
Was within reasonable reach.

To feel stone beneath my heel worn boot
Before my lungs would burst, heart quiver and fail
Before legs too stupid to realize too late
They were too slow, too weak to bear the load
Of vacant purpose set to winged flight.

The specters behind would bide their time
Overtaking before my purpose was uncovered
So well practiced they,
The teasing, tormenting ties
That held me down, tethered and bound.

The icy air bore nothing, no sound
Of parting grass; stinging western wind
Mute mountain's selfish blindness
Uncaring, silently refusing to say
What game was being played.

© Celeste Plowden 2010