Snowdrops Growing Wild Near the Barn

by Lisa Megraw
Wild Poetry Forum
Second Place, February 2016
Judged by Lee Slonimsky


Our faces turn to glass
where the wind rushes
between our crowd of bodies.
l can no longer hear any music

where the wind rushes
inside the crow’s raincoat of feathers.
I can no longer hear any music
amongst the quiver of cobwebs

inside the crow’s raincoat of feathers.
Long ago a boy went missing
amongst the quiver of cobwebs
so we search, our white petals burning.

Long ago a boy went missing
so we push at the edges of the darkness,
so we search, our white petals burning,
our bodies knotted with their light.

So we push at the edges of the darkness
carrying our white fires aloft,
our bodies knotted with their light.
Taking turns to rise and sink like breath

carrying our white fires aloft,
we gather inside a river of wind.
Taking turns to rise and sink like breath:
a swarm of stars.

We gather inside a river of wind
like a beating heart:
a swarm of stars.
Our faces turning to glass.


“Snowdrops Growing Wild Near the Barn” is a beautifully mysterious poem, filled with brilliant images, adroit use of repetition, and also a suggestive, shadowy obliqueness. From “the crow’s raincoat of feathers” to “we gather inside a river of wind,” the poem is filled with exciting, unexpected, even jolting moments of language that are what excellent poetry is about. Truly original syntactical moments like “our bodies knotted with their light” prove that, as much as may have been said in poetry to date, at least as much remains to be explored. --Lee Slonimsky

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