George Witte’s poem, “The Way Back” is in the Winter 2016 issue of The Antioch Review.
THE WAY BACK
by George Witte
Not pebbles bread abandoned children’s shoes
scat trail of fearful ingenuity
but contour lines familiar sloping hills
crushed mailbox where we know to turn don’t tell
light falling as it fell across the lake
in postcard photographs our neighbor seemed
grandfatherly side door so dark and low
outsiders wouldn’t dare investigate
we scavenged garbage basements backyard sheds
for private implements with crows convened
on autumn roads to pluck remains and scream
no telling where we ended up or who
pursued the glazed and crenellated house
the oven’s rancid breath don’t tell how close
we came or what we did to live again
air parting air we glide enshadowed paths
malingering among regretful things
damp pebbles bright as eyes crusts soft and warm
our shoes transparent delicate they fit
as if we never ran away unlaced
deranged splayed open with their tongues pulled out
***
George Witte is the author of three collections of poems, Does She Have a Name? (NYQ Books, 2014), Deniability (2009), and The Apparitioners (2004), the latter two from Orchises Press. His poems have been published in numerous journals, and reprinted in the Best American Poets, Vocabula 2, Old Flame, Rabbit Ears, and The Doll Collection anthologies. He lives with his family in Ridgewood, New Jersey.
© 2016 The Antioch Review
