a journal of fantastical poetry


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

August 31st, 2013

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