Jun 282010

by Anne Bromley

Sorry, Artemis,

I don’t want to hunt

with you this doesn’t mean

I don’t love you

emerging from green

as the dark unknown

fades behind you

alpha bitch you

guide me faithfully

flanked by your giant hounds

when I need

courage to be alone

display how strong

bare arms gather

a huge eye of energy

able fingers

pinching string

drawing back

chord taut

zero in

let go

I feel

the breeze

of your arrow’s flight

rushing straight to my

wretched head it cuts

loathsome fears doubts

dries up troubled tears

I become the goddess of deer

scatter their stories

of long trails meadows

the body’s wild memories

I still glimpse you

through fall trees at dusk

taste your fresh


gulp your laurel

breath death

doesn’t mean

you don’t love