she waited for the snow to harbour
bewitched by somnolentia
she ripped ivy with her thumbs
unleashed apple bark
plummeting in ringlets
flecks of lace
she bit the tallow
down to the roots
spat thread and trussed molasses
burnt to the other side
of the candle
larvae
buried long ago
were they humming
molecules
could they be free of convulsions
she asked about the trigger
whether the word
whole
meant archaic
numbness or trauma
she didn’t know where
to put them
returned to the lilac bough
asphyxiated with callous rain
bricked leaves wrenched with gales
nothing if not upended
how could she tell
if they were alive
for the beholder of logic
the delusion of languor
she knew that if she was dead
there could still be a sense
of something other than
stillness
in the debris
as the world continued to move
either way
they would be carried along with it
Louise Mather is a writer and poet from England. You can find her on Twitter @lm2020uk and her work/upcoming work in Streetcake Magazine and The Cabinet of Heed.
photo by Halanna Halila (via unsplash)
If you loved this, check out Louise’s debut pamphlet, The Dredging of Rituals.
Out now from Alien Buddha Press.
Crow & Cross Keys 