Enclosed, my body,
lacking the momentum to seize the moment,
feels briefly what most people taste
in the everyday.
Whether in agony, sorrow or bliss,
I find the hole
through the old barn boards.
Peering into the dim space
I spot some vintage relic
in which to store my hope.
Once in hand
its truth revealed
the rusty hinges
the slight break in the base
I capture my deepest emotions
under the lid.
Stacked amongst the clutter
how could it be reclaimed
when the situation calls it forth?

At once the owl swoops down from his perch,
picking his prey from the cracks in the earth.
He slowly ascends to the top of the barn
to feast on the spoils that he snatched from the lawn.

In the corner
I listen to the signature song,
my instincts being played
on a wooden radio.
The sound of the creaking beams
melts itself into the wall
of sound.
Loaded with impressions,
assuming it was found,
would I open it to discover
the contents corrupted?
This time I suppress
the dreadful suspense.
Lifting the lid
the light displays
the hidden secrets
of Edmund Wayne.

~Luke Taklo

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