Apple-Eaten Heathen

Erika Ostergaard

Mud and lightning Gollum,
breathed-into, expanded to slave around.
Nature's no cause
on the higherup crusts of forgotten or foregone grounds.

Wind heather
through rough-wrought bangs to let slip the shiny eyes that
god's no claim
on the straight experience of dawning iron there.

Worms under toes
cloven to new life and naïve freedom from what was a half.
Earth is no home
to shiny red poisons hanging so sweet in the air, so solid on branches.

Skivvy mine,
perfumed, collared and pledged, still I long for a fallen follower.
I've no desire
for monstrance so artlessly inseminated.

Yet eyes make mouths to water
and teeth make tongues to taste
new quarters under the candy-lipped wrapping.


About the Author

Erika Ostergaard teaches English as a second (and usually third) language to K-12 students in rural Moldova (eastern Europe). Her poetry is published in small papers and magazines in West Virginia where she graduated from Shepherd University with an English Literature degree.