Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-eight
Summer 2015
In Plain Sight
Ian C. Williams

I would always watch them wander out, treading
around in little circles as if searching for someone

who, like Daphne, had been enclosed in a dress
of bark and given a bouquet of leaves, tenderly grown,

carefully held by wooden limbs. Eventually, their object
never uncovered, the miniature seekers would retreat

again, back to their pastoral villages, probably
to erect a gravestone or a shrine. A memento to what drifted

away from them. All this time, I’ve wondered why,
in all their searching, they never found me. I never burrowed

underneath. I have stood in the open, eyes wide and arms
outstretched, thinking at any moment I would be returned

from the forest. Found and returned—had I wandered
away from the fold? Had I been transformed into an evergreen?

Still they come and still they circle; still they wander out
as if searching. Still I wonder: are they looking for me?

About Ian C. Williams

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