• Janna Barber

Rising Hill Road


There’s a road that curves   exactly the same                        as the line here on my palm


It travels along

my arm, like the veins                        you can’t see inside my heart


I walk its paths

when I’m asleep,

and dream its greens when I’m awake


The willows weep           as I make my way,                        tracing the edge of the path.


The twilight sky           dances toward dark;                        where footsteps make no sound


This road is smooth and I am young; the end of it is home


So, I hold my breath            and take a step

toward the waning moon

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