POTN 8

POETRY  |  FICTION

Husks

by Wendy Rathbone, art by Bridget McCoy

(For Louis)

I love the sad ones,
beings whose dreams walk the dead lamp of the moon,
who have more than a little of the
dark mantra
in their souls.

The sad ones make autumn their flag,
cast dust-confetti,
carve out a frail and brooding existence
in window-locked houses,
collect tears like tea in cups.

I love the sad ones
bowing to their thin candles,
caping themselves in cool lengths of black,
so close to the truth of their world,
yet so far from home.