Prophecy in the tilt of a wombStars a pendulum on the shore
deep blue bodies or waves
cosmos every time I almost
requiem for myth
prophecy in the tilt of a womb
synchronicity in blood
all our atoms
spilt through the woods
show me the lanterns
on your tongue
you only came back once in all these
allusions hands gripped
to constellations echoes
to the throat
Falling with ThanatosAlready, you have saved me many times.
Hold me down to the sun – where I echo
Without knowing, you cup my chin in your
This time my blood is on them, pale coral
smudged to skin.
You are telling me all the good in the world,
how to place my heart
or you’re pouring the bad into me –
or yourself. One of us is winning,
Hooked into the ether, the moon knows
nothing. I am done with it. I lie. You don’t
run. Judgement is for the underworld.
When I scream you don’t tell me to stop.
You take me out to the woods to devour
my tears or set me on fire, whatever I ask.
You talk to me, as if we were human.
We have barely killed each other once.
You only hurt me that night when the snow
wouldn’t fall through the darkness
and nothing could sleep.
The rest I make up, as if taken from you,
or dug out of a core we both knew never
Paradox & Origin
Apocalypse in Cobalt
Louise Mather is a writer from Northern England and founding editor of Acropolis Journal. A finalist in the Streetcake Poetry Prize and nominated Best of the Net 2021, her work is published in various print and online literary journals. Her debut pamphlet ‘The Dredging of Rituals’ is out with Alien Buddha Press, 2021. She writes about ancestry, rituals, endometriosis, fatigue and mental health. Twitter @lm2020uk Website: www.louisematheruk.wixsite.com/louisemather