December 23, 2018
Posting this a day early, because I’m at the end of the Ser-form Satik alphabet. This technically concludes Decemverse (If I had known before writing today’s poem, I would have made it special! But I suppose it’s Malakai’s time to shine.)
There’s actually a few more that I want to do, outside of Moribund, but I don’t know how many that will be or what it will look like.
[The Satik letter for “H”]
I traced the ridges of her spine
and that was comforting to me
to follow them to her jawline
to touch a thing I couldn't see
From here on out it's ransom all the way down.
[The Satik letter for “W”]
“For you,” She said, “Marun, I'd sing a couple bars
in love, and light, and color, in the cooling shade of stars.
Maybe that is saccharine-- absolute nonsense.
Maybe you have wounded me, and this is recompense.”
[Stars and constellations.]
Except this. There's really nothing here that's anything in particular. “Marun” is common ~Mercasian slang, like calling somebody “mate,” “buddy,” or “pal.”
[The Satik letter for “G”]
She thumbs the black scarf's inner seam
and that is of no comfort to her;
phone numbers that ring and ring
for idle hands that once were there.
[The Satik letter for “D”]
Child of the mourning snow,
is that your lot in life?
To sink your caustic teeth in soft things,
weeping on your knife?
Oh You Know.
[The Satik letter for “`”; glottal stop.]
forgive me if I think that's rich
my eyesight is quite poor
and lying in this muddy ditch
it's hard to think much anymore
I wish I could be an ounce as scathing as Mrs. Bluebeard. (Malakai's fine, he's just being dramatic.)