by Sara Norja

Mid-woods, near-water, dragged onto dry land,
you once-wanderer of the lakes, you wave-breaker:
the rowans form an arch above your open grave.
Lichen tufts swarm your sides. A bed of reeds
shrouds your hull, where once my love sat steady
and rowed through the lake-lands, whispering of war
before her mind wavered.

here the air is still, at summer's cusp
soft fade into dusk

You're a ruin now, nails rust, planks rotting,
reeds pushing through each crack. Here, abandoned,
you lie amid the night sounds and the foxes' rustling --
a carcass of a boat, one day to sink
into the forest floor.

One day you'll be earth
as my love is earth
your wood-ribs will be eaten
by beetles as she was eaten

by her fears


Sara Norja has a master's degree in English and a predilection for tea. Born in England and currently settled in Helsinki, Finland, she lives for the wind, words, dance, and moments of wonder. Her poetry has previously appeared in publications such as Curio, Polu Texni and Strange Horizons, and is forthcoming in Plunge Magazine and Niteblade. She blogs at

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