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Written by Willow, one of our poetry writers, and edited by Udita, one of our editors!

look out to see a bloodied wraith,

like a curse word

but unmoored.

Anchor it to the amygdala.

I only wield my scalpel out of  morbid curiosity

for the condition of the dead fledglings

Takeout's on the table.

There are worms in the pork belly,

fished from the stomach

of a child before she is set alight.

Truly love each other, and watch

the carpet of dead crows

to come crashing over our heads

We don't speak of evil in our daily lives

not enough anyways, to make sense

of how the world turns under our feet,

dragging each body away upstream

Lay in the mud, eyes buried.

coin taped to feet,

one each for every corpse that does not disintegrate

into a flower bed. I hope the coins

are heavy enough for the ferryman.


This piece was written by one of our poetry columnists, Willow. Reach them at @oldmanheart, on Instagram!

This piece was edited by one of our editors, Udita. Reach them at @wilde_woolf on Instagram.

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