Fables

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

The rain is a funereal xylophone that mourns only for the bamboo roof.

there is a reason for our stasis

halfway there but never there

once, under an umbrella, twice

on clouds, thinking of a quixotic body

a whole night of she-wolves howling,

witches chanting aphrodisiacs alongside yet nothing tangible that breathes dawnlight Only in the corner of smoking ruins do we earn our peace,

with fervor

& too little contention to claim as our own

come high noon in the city

for the pedestrians’ droll humming to carve itself

into our bones, over & over

with the tenacity of a mooning hourglass

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Photo Source Link