Poetry: “Idyll of the Sipsey Wilderness,” by J.R. Forman

a broken arrowhead—its tip
cut off—depressed beneath the clay
five hundred years emerges after

summer’s heavy rain—I rinse
it in the basin carved in limestone
and cut a reed to test its sharpness—

the snapping greenwood on the blade
reminds me that I have not thought
of you since parting ways—most battles—

you once told me—are decided
by the wind—since then have you
grown old enough to leave your children

and has imagining their tears
at your return forestalled your steps?
don’t look for me—I must get back

I could not spot again this crag
or find once more this flint whose edge
appears to draw the evening’s blood

J. R. Forman’s (Tarleton State) recent work has appeared in Spoon River, Wax Paper, West Branch, AzonaL, Evening Street, Signal Mountain, Agave, Perceptions, Brief Wilderness, Talking River, SLAB, Glint, Matter, Press Pause, Visitant, The Round, and anthologies by Clemson. An Appalachia native, he lives on the staked plains of Texas. drjrforman.com @drjrforman