Poetry as a Map
A poem by Alexander Etheridge

Poetry as a Map

In twelve lines I’ll find my way back
though I stumble in the outskirts
on a plane of thorny stars and wolf tracks

The fourth line is a primitive map
The fifth is a kerosene lamp

and by its light I can sense
being quietly shepherded

The eighth is a promise
my only possession now

The way back is through grim frozen peaks
I was always ready
Now I take my leave

About the Author:

Alexander Etheridge’s poems have been featured in The Potomac Review, Museum of Americana, Welter Journal, The Cafe Review, Abridged Magazine, Susurrus Magazine, The Journal, and many others.  He was the winner of the Struck Match Poetry Prize in 1999.  He is the author of, God Said Fire, and, Snowfire and Home. 

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