A Map of Old Battles
They lie deep in a forest, wounds
unseen, unhealed. Further back,
an escarpment with dark scars.
Visiting, perhaps you expected
something tactile, something to hold,
markers of exact terrain, key sites
on paper or cowhide. Who can say
how history unfolds? Waiting for sleep,
visions return — bodies, faces.
Indelible feelings. This topography
I carry. Thank you because you listen,
you understand this haunting.
Should we talk of fit and proper things,
above our power to add or subtract?
This is my map. It is not the only map.
Michael Mintrom lives in Melbourne, Australia. His poems have appeared in various literary journals including: Amsterdam Quarterly, The Blue Mountain Review, Cordite Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, London Grip, The Metaworker, and Shot Glass Journal.