Image by Mike Yukhtenko

ROOTS

the madrigal, volume ii

Quietus Makes an Eerie

by sarah wallis

Too hot for sleep and hospital

worry, I am up with the light, kitchen

door open and calling a cat home.

Under black sail

a curiosity at eye-level wends towards

an omen, if I looked for such things,

a behemothic progress, solemn display

of flutter and float on the night air,

with direction and purpose, a colossal

Death’s-head Hawk-moth proceeds, yes,

is processional, slow and un-fevered,

like a boat, ploughing a wake, out

from safe harbour, caught in the rain.

She is trailing black clouds

under night weather, wings her way

steady, inevitable as a compass

a grand old lady, in funereal garb

and readying,

towards the light

Sarah Wallis is a poet and playwright based in Scotland, UK. Recent work is at Trampset, Lunate and Abridged (Nyx issue) online and in print journals Finished Creatures (Stranger issue) and The Alchemy Spoon (Metal issue). A chapbook, Medusa Retold, is available from @fly_press and she tweets @wordweave.