Poem by Annest Gwilym “Last Night…”

Last Night…

I dreamed my soul rose 
from my body whitely

like a sea mist coming in 
from the west, its slow coolness, 

diaphanous dampness,
hovering over the lumpen land.

I left behind this place of bones,
numb flesh silent as snow,

the past that is always present
in heavy muscles and sinew

with their scent of damp earth,
pallid roots and annelids.

I fled from stars that implode 
behind the eyes, loudness of blood 

crashing, roaring in ears
into the softness of ozone.

I learned to wear the cold like a shawl –
cold, like death, can be an ally. 

Wolfpack Contributor: Annest Gwilym

Poetry by Annest Gwilym: Red on Red

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Annest Gwilym

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1


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