S. E. Lister
  • Home
  • About
  • Books
    • Hideous Creatures
    • The Immortals >
      • Chapter One
    • Augury
  • Short Stories
    • Spacewalk
    • Kitten
    • A-Bomb
    • Limb
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Updates

Light Box

11/24/2017

 
When we met I wanted to tell him, if you ever leave me, don't do it in the winter. But it turns out I had as little choice in that as in the rest of it. The night came in all at once. 
​

I love something about this haunted time of year. These crow and pumpkin months. The poltergeist winds and fingernail moons. I glove my hands and go into the hedgerow to cut nettles, stem after stem until I have a bag full. A spine breaches through to my fingertip and the pain buzzes there for hours. I boil the leaves in saltwater, bake them into bread.

These days the afternoons rise around my neck like a tide. I drive in the dark and come in the evening to a house which needs kneading through, pressing and rearranging until it feels like home again. I put things away in the kitchen and sweep the floors. I try to make space in rooms where the night is just outside the windows. I am medieval, huddled in an age where fire and home are arrayed to keep devils away. 

I am Neolithic. I want to know what they sang to the earth to make it turn again. For my sun I have a light box. A cube the shade of a white-sky day. 

    Author

    Words by me and other wiser people.

    Picture

    Archives

    May 2019
    April 2018
    February 2018
    November 2017
    March 2016
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015

    Categories

    All
    Arts
    Editing
    Events
    Words By Other People

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.