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
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.