Shed Your Skin
Hello cemetery road, you with your
Long gravel tail that stretches endlessly
Towards some vague expression of peace,
There amongst the tallest trees.
You are rotting
Nautilus
In this dream, I don’t leave for months. Time is the same, a silvered, ever-present light that filters through our house, through the windows, through the glass doors. I trace the corridors of this house in a memory. Cherry-wood floors, white-washed walls, linen curtains that breathe in and out with the breeze. The house is rich in warmth, it cocoons and slumbers; at night we are rocked, as if by a mother.
Ballad of the Rebel Angels
Shadowed figures crawl o’er the hills —
From what crevasse they came
No creature knows but may distil;
Eternal furnaced flame.
Patupaiarehe
Margaret Allen sighed and scratched at her scalp, finding the kitchen ceiling no more interesting than the wall. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and the gnawing pit in her stomach pained her. Ever since her dad had followed that high, piping call from the forest days earlier, her mother had been on edge until she, too, went to investigate. The hopeful smile she wore as she left, just after their last breakfast together, still lingered in Margaret’s mind.