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“ ‘The trees are just woods, and the woods just trees . . . ‘ ” by Stefanie Maclin

These woods will not harm you, mother says,
and you believe her.

These trees will not hurt you, she tells you,
and you go walking among them, and through.

You wear your new cloak, walking in the woods;
its color the same red
as the apples you carry in your basket,
and the blood

washed clean.

You wear your new cloak, hood pulled tight,
and your shoes—black and shiny—and

feel the sun on your hands and face.
You go walking among the trees, and through,

and you carry your cheese and bread, wine and fruit,
apples red as your new cloak, and you step lightly

along the path.

These woods are not made to harm you, your mother says,
and you believe her.

So you walk.

It’s only when you meet the wolf,
and you’re not yet scared, do you realize—

these trees are not made to hurt you,
but sometimes the shadows lurk

inside.


Stefanie Maclin’s poetry and short stories have appeared in such publications as Illumen, Dreams & Nightmares, Battered Suitcase, and Conversation Poetry Quarterly. When she is not writing, she works as a librarian. She lives in Boston’s MA. For a complete listing of her writing credits, please visit http://thesilentpoet.live journal.com.

 

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  1. Electric Velocipede 26 » Electric Velocipede

    [...] 5/9 → “The Still Room” by Jamie Killen → “ ‘The trees are just woods, and the woods just trees…’ ” by Stefanie Maclin [...]

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