A Real Reckoning

Your blood might be thicker
(and filthier) than most minds
can imagine, but…
my will is a thing of magic.

You can bite into me, rip
my heart, taste my rage, believe
you’ve made me yours, but…
no one can own a wild soul
who knows her Self inside and out.

I will rest awhile, think
of blood and magic, then…
your flesh and bones will feel
a real reckoning.

 

a wee note…
– June Mac Hill, mistress of A Lot Less Ordinary, told me that her blood-clad fairy could use some “awesome words.” I went ahead and wrote her some—because everyone should have awesome words. I’ve tweaked the original version a bit (since *cough* it needed it [say that 13 times fast]).

 

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

 

Wholed by Ink

Over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Kerry invited us to write a poem inspired by Clarence White’s Morning. The image—a woman in a nightgown, sitting on the edge of a tub, thinking… in front of a window—made me think of moonlight, storytelling and such. So, here’s my poem:

 

I am dark stories
glittering, ragged wings
wholed by ink,
nightlight risen
through shadow and storm.

 

the finished piece brought to mind this painting by Shelle Kennedy

also, the original poem is a blackout

this is what it looked like before the inking and stitching

 

Linked to Poets United.