How The Forest Calls
Come into the forest,
howling winds whip about your legs,
tug at your ankles, closer,
beneath the evergreen canopy where the darkness
makes its home,
a mossy mausoleum with bones
hidden in the undergrowth,
may they snap, unseen
and you’ll grind their shards into sediment
while the birdsong lures you deeper
into the damp, off the trail,
and the spirits of a thousand nymphs
fill your head with an ancient language
you’ll never understand;
Step inside the circle,
blooming bright with snapdragons,
poppies,
bluebells,
the invitation melts on your tongue
and you swallow, thick— refusal will not form,
not while they reach for you, promising
phosphorous pleasures,
willows come to life around you,
fireflies glow in hues you’ve never seen,
breathe the violet fog
let it in,
taste the temptation they’ll feed
you, lick it from their fingers
a mutual delight;
Sing their song of delirium,
sway to music played on tuneless woodwind,
dance until your muscles burn then longer,
eat the mushrooms crushed between your toes
as goldfinches scream cacophonies
into your hair,
slippery fae snatch the syllables of your name
dangle them, laughing,
out of reach,
are your ears leaking?
is that blood foaming at your mouth?
thorns have shredded your limbs
teeth falling out, trodden into the earth,
cuticles peeled, ribs lashed, fingers bent
the wrong way,
you are a macabre marionette
with strings cutting
through your joints;
Try to find your way out
comes the taunt,
so you blink sticky lashes and scratch your corneas
flail against gnarled branches
blind,
stagger on swollen feet, grope
for an exit that no longer exists,
while they slice at your soul
and grind the slivers to mulch,
nature’s favourite fertiliser,
until your bones are gifts for the slobbering rodents
and you lose the sense
you were ever human at all.
In Defence of the Cryptid
headlights on the mountain road
winding between cliff faces
we’re in the middle
of an argument over the map’s landmarks
when appears a silhouette
conjured from the thickening mist
wide eyes a phosphorus glow
beneath antlers spanning the lane
seatbelts choke us
against our seats
transfixed
by that beast’s cold gaze
when we talk about monsters, it’s all
snarling teeth in the gutters
undersea giants razing ships
not this drooling mess of limbs
inverted joints and crooked lines
too many bones for its skin
stillness stutters
its breath coming in clouds
on contorted hooves it turns heaving
seeing us through the glass
hit the gas
who’s the monster now?
Comentários