For the month of December, I wrote a small poem about Moribund every day.
[The Satik letter for “OO”]
For what is in a river’s name
but power to the gloryvain?
[Roan’s hand, reaching out from the ocean black.]
December 8
[The Satik letter for “K”]
So the woman asked: “Where is home?”
Spoke the koath: “To chase the line that separates the sea and sky, and know that you are not alone.”
Spoke the salmon: “To long in hours empty as the starless sea to return, and know that you could.”
Spoke the osprey: “To coast on thermals high above the skin of the earth, and know that the world is good.”
December 9
[The Satik letter for “F” / “V”]
He trembles. “What injury could I endure
to be held in your hands once more?”
“None,” I shy from his soft touch.
“I love you far too much.”
[The wound that split apart Lex’s bleeding heart.]
December 10
[The Satik letter for “P”]
What have you done,
my penitent son?
Where can you run
that the sun is shadowed from?
[The Scaiuq mountain range at sunset.]
December 11
[The Satik letter for “SH” / “ZH”]
Koda faced the great storm bird
with nary arms or alms
transfixed by an obscene urge
to sing its bloody psalms
[The visor of Koda’s mask.]
December 12
[The Satik letter for “S”]
He brushed the stray strands from her cheek:
“You are your father’s daughter.”
So Lex, that night, stole to the creek
and sheared off all her hair.
[Clippings of Roan’s hair.]
Decemverse 2018
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