The incubator issue 12

Page 19

19

Eileen NĂ­ ShuilleabhĂĄin

Night Song

This hum in my marrow is lost to some wild and untamed place. A rattle roar bruised deep like a dark mountain. A riot in my veins a deepening forest whose path long lost calls me like some wild fire.

A wolf howls carved from a buttery moon. A raven croaks salt from the sea air and you, thread a needle with my words dance with me a circus dance.

Your whisper in my ear cracks the growl in my throat theincubatorjournal.com


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