Patricia M. Twining-Obarski
Works

Michael

Your room, perpetually dark and musty,

Smoke-filled, windows tightly sealed

Against a rusted pane

Thin layers of onion-skinned dust

Cover your books on Mythology and the Occult,

Graves: “The White Goddess”, Gardner’s “High Magic Aid”,

“The Quest for Merlin” by Hovey


The glint of your watery eyes, steel-blue,

Held captive by the candle’s flame

Its flickering probes the surrounding space

Like spindly fingers feeling

Their way through a darkened room


You sit on the hardwood floor

Sketch, in Druid homage, a White Oak,

Your hand transmigrates across the leaf of paper

A shadowy ghost, weaving in and out,

Of winding passageways

Ink-black, intricate scrawls entwined

Becoming ever twisted and gnarled


You recreate the trees on the page

Seldom do you touch their rough bark

Venture rarely from this place

Awake at the hour of dusk

In the vanishing of light

Safe in the shadows

Lighting long tapered candles

To divine your tarot cards

The trees, hued in the afterglow,

Through the barrier of glass

Yellow and murky

With smoke