In the Wolf’s Hour

A poem about my Mandrake Ointment written by a lovely bone-collecting patroness of mine whose other prose has been published in Scarlet Imprint’s new poison anthology¬†Mandragora.

In the Wolf’s Hour

via Scavenger Spirits

“mandrake
sing your dark songs to me
fill my head with visions;
drowned in ointment,
sink into the bloody soil of my flesh
send your roots deep
into the rotted heart of me
erase the pain;
send my soul tumbling
to distant worlds
as I dream the strange dreams
that are your gift;
give me your wings
shaped from shadow,
woven of loam and need
when I wail like a newborn babe,
whimper like a dog
half-dead on the road;
man, dragon,
help me to hear
let me feel anew
open my eyes
and let me see.”

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