Hemlock-headed
You poison
everything
You touch
like a
Hemlock-headed witch.
The night
thickens and
Laments as
the twined
Noise in
the tar-coloredNight rides down
From the twisted oak
Trees.
I cannot
hold your
Wretched
hands.
I cannot
trust that which
Is demonic.
I ride the waves of the
Moon’s
light alone down
To the
earth’s floor.I must be an island.
Glisten
The stars glisten in the indigo sky
as the moon shows its bald luminescent
face in the cold hours of the night.
I wait for you in our icy bed to come
and melt the frost away.
I cling to my heart -
my soul lingers like a child wanting
some candy.
Dawnell Harrision has been published in over 100 magazines and journals including The Endicott Review,
The Journal, Fowl Feathered Review, The Bitchin' Kitsch, Vox Poetica, The Tower
Journal, Queen's Quarterly, and many others.
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