Locust

In that great silent first frost
the shell is a broken rattle
I once heard shake the forest
of the young sun
& send him scurrying to the other world.
Now it is an empty threat
to the sharp, divergent wind
that unwinds the universal whorl
& buries the stops & ratchets
in its own angry prayer.
I've heard avenging angels of the Lord
have such swords as to sever
this world
from its core in a single blow,
but is their blade any sharper
than one that cut the locust
from its song
& left me a mute ear
to its slit gossamer throat?

Copyright © 2005 David Appelbaum All rights reserved
from Rhino
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission