Poem: “Retreat Wounded”

Poem, “Retreat Wounded,” published in First Literary Review-East.

Retreat Wounded

We made the best of a gray day, playing explorer
on a riverbank not far from the road. You hunted
heart-stones, ones that I’d fill in a bamboo bowl.
Bluegrass music floated down from an upriver camp, 
reminding us that we weren’t alone. You called to me,
and I went to you to look at the blood on the rocks.
Some attack, some fight, some animal survived
and retreated wounded into the forest. We followed
a ways, until I said that we should go back, concerned
about us, about you, to where we were wandering.
You wanted to press on, concerned about hurt,
wanting to repair. I won, letting nature take its course.
We returned to the car, returned to the hotel. I ordered
us wine and massages. Late that night, you spoke your truth
to the dark: “you should’ve let me help.” Your stones,
sink-washed, dried on a towel in the bathroom.

Published by Brendan McEntee

Poet and critic living in New York near Long Island Sound.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: