white fire in the trees

poetry inspired by ANCIENT

sickle moon composing like a white fire through the trees. the body a vessel of small ritual. a pouring of quiet, carried by its vocabulary like whuff of swan billow. the ghosts from childhood rustle of our impermanence. an indigo shadow hollowing at the end of our lips. we sit with our candles. we keep our mouths close to the ground. 

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRISTOPHER MARTIN

here in the northern hemisphere we are in the last few weeks of lessening light. the membrane of midwinter is verging. this month we will slow down slightly here at the winged moon, with no writing competition. we are filled with our HINTERLAND poems and that is more than enough for now.

we also have some exciting news! we are currently opening the way for a new co-editor here on our free weekly newsletter. together we will curate the poetry, interviews and writing competitions and she will be stitching it all in her expert hands. i’ll announce her name later in the month.

until then, poetry inspired by mythic creatures by Lisa Criswell

NESSIE AS AN ENDING
Lisa Criswell
 
When the sky turned flame, and the stars swallowed
my prehistoric sisters, I sank into the drench of a loch.
Survival was a dark well, fathomless deep.
The lake, a globe of silence.
 
My sisters did not make it to the refuge of the loch.
I emerge because I miss their earth
glistening above the silent globe of the lake.
I want to breathe their voices, echoing over the water.
 
I emerge because I miss the green waiting world.
I am woven dark, but what creature doesn’t long for light?
The wind wants to breathe my voice through the water.
Even a monster fears loneliness.
 
What creature doesn’t long to thread light through dark?
I met a boy on the shore and hoped he would see me,
but he only saw fear. Even a myth is lonely
when the sky ignites with swallowed stars.






Lisa Criswell (she/her) lives in the foothills of the Cascades, where she threads words through the woods, weaving bandages for the ache. She is a maker of tenderness, nostalgia, and misplaced longing. Her poetry has appeared in Pile Press, Tabula Rasa Review, and Free Verse Revolution, among others.

until next week