I’m working on editing “Pigeon House”, which came in at just about 35 pages. In the meantime I’ve started a new story that’s a big change of pace–much more introspective and grounded.
No other real announcements this week, so I’ve taken a stab at a ‘horror’ poem that also serves as a introduction to one of the characters in “Pigeon House.”
When I found you, you were
but a little thing. Sparrow of the woods,
picking berries too far from the safety of
You bristled, hackles drawn,
when the autumn air turned heavy, hot.
And the lowering sun spilled blotted shapes
and shadows along that humid grove.
It stank of bog and rotten things that pick
and tap like moths at your window,
little vampires scratching
for leave to come inside.
But why do you fear? For I shall love you
like I love all my children.
And when I bring you home at last,
you will ripen, and know the peace of moist softness.
through lengthening shadows.
Your frozen eyes dancing
to the tips of many fingers
You never yell, though you could have.
My touch will change your life.
And all about me my children hum
and gather round to welcome you home.