Let’s Tell Scary Stories | Meg Harris

My automatic drawing
became your face.
The plump brown-orb-weaver
laces a web then lies
in wait at the edge 
of the moon-reflecting glass.

Ghost orbs float in the night.
The snowy owl
sweeps down the bank
behind your head.
For a moment I believe
he will embrace you,
this great white angel. 

I got the eyes wrong 
but the mouth is yours,
looking as if it may
move to curse
or to kiss me.

Comments ( 2 )

  1. ReplyMiguel Escobar
    Let's think scary thoughts.. but using the word enjoy with this would seem out of place.. I love the uniqueness of the moment and the thoughts, and think, this is what writing is for..
    • ReplyKrysia Jopek
      Thank you so much, Miguel, for reading our inaugural issue. I will make sure Meg sees your comment!

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