From the dovecote the song

drifts down.

I pause my binding,

cocking my head to listen:

something about it is familiar, but not,

like the aftertaste of a bitter fruit

you only half-remember eating.

I carry on, threading

the thin, gold cords


This soul’s organs

can’t escape.


Author: dragonink90

I'm a writer of MG and YA fiction, and also a poet. The first book in my Half-Wizard Thordric series, Unofficial Detective, will be released by Creativia in the near future. Oh, I binge watch Booktube videos, too.