Thursday, April 18, 2013

A Poem by Tom Hatch


The afternoon of the new born fawn
Climbing skinny unfolded legs
Up rocky hilly pattern of weave
Wanting a leap back into the womb
Drawn possibly by Aubrey Beardsley
Umbilical cord swirls illustrated
Hoofs becoming dirty earthly
Strident with life sees the filtered light
Of the forest
The taste of mothers milk
Feeble to strength in the spring to
High summers grasses brown spotted blending
Camouflaged in the landscape of the hunting wolfs
her fear to go has turned survival stayed standing
In the dusty fibers of the tapestry my grandmother
Left me
Now on the floor next to the bed
Hearing the wolves chewing bones filled with marrow
In my to sleep every night woven from my grandmother's dreams
Wolves surrounding the frightened fawn
Still there in the morning stepping someday
Over crushed, broken, gnarled bones that
Cannot be sustained forever lying on the bedroom floor
As the fibers break down the wolves get closer to the fawn everyday

Tom Hatch paid his dues in the SoHo art scene in the 70s, 80s and 90s. He was awarded two NEA grants for sculpture back then. And taught at various colleges and universities in the NYC metro area in art including Princeton U. He is a regular at The Camel Saloon and BoySlut. He had recently published The Mind[less] Muse. He lives in CT with a few farms up and down the road works in Manhattan. His train ride to and from NYC is his solace, study and den where it all begins and ends.

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