Poetry & Writing

Where the olive trees ache


Where the olive trees ache
loves lesions bleed into milky trees
where the silver tinder cracks at
my every footfall –
where the flies flit excited
at my attention

you scrubbed my wounds when the soldiers left
the priest, the bastard,
burnbranding dust
into trodden sweat sodden souls that scratch
cruciform late

you said he’d ride to
the lemon soil where the olive trees ache
and you were right

shackled and faithless
strengthless
we looked to the lemon soil
and the tracks
where every grain would cower and cry

he had everything but my heart, you said,
and you were right

6 thoughts on “Where the olive trees ache

  1. Somehow I knew, Al. I read it very slowly, letting the beautiful ache in the words wash over me. I fell in love with it.

    I’m surprised that mine seems to be the first comment. It should be the first of many. Beautiful words deserve the visits of many eyes and hearts.

  2. Such a lovely read..it actually (for me) reads like a mini-prose piece and that my friend is good poetry..There are so many wonderful lines here, but I favor these:

    “you scrubbed my wounds when the soldiers left
    the priest, the bastard,
    burnbranding dust”

    Well done!!

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