The Chasm Closes
by Edmund Morton
Surround yourself with danger:
tropes of peril and approaching calamity
rap crusted knuckles on the door,
their shadows haunt the windows,
lurking behind drawn curtains like
the nemesis of a recurring nightmare,
pulling you down into that
claustrophobic chasm of self.
Here, a wolf treks between the trees,
leaving prints in the snow:
down on the ground, he is making a map
for those above to capture him.
Each step is uncertain,
a passage to ravines, dark shrubs,
deep water in which he could perish;
threats hide in the trees and,
from the sky, his winding tracks
on virgin white are all too plain.
Yet, as he hears the howls
and is surrounded,
the chasm closes and danger stalks away.
Edmund Morton was born in Slough and attended university in Aberystwyth, Wales. He then left to China, where he has lived since and teaches English. His love of reading, writing, and music all come from a desire to view life in detail, preferably at one remove from reality. From this perspective, his poetry struggles to reconcile perception and truth, either as two differing facts or two mutual fictions.