Here Be Dragons

This ought to have been up last week but I wanted to complete the series of stories. It reflects how I saw the time between Christmas and New Year as a child: scary. It seemed to be time-out-of-time, to belong in no time at all. I felt dislodged, floating, and uneasy.

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HERE BE DRAGONS

between Christmas’ night
and New Year’s dawn
days feast into dark
nights orgy into sunrise
bonfires cavort
at the clock’s command

it’s an unsafe week
when the invisible
peers out of time
spectres dance
at our table –
that week
between birth and birth –
here be dragons

macabre hands reach into mirrors
borrowing reflections
for unhallowed rites –
red-haired men, coal-bearers
king the time

I cling to light like a moth
sing shadows out of night
catch movement
in corners
clasp hands and shiver
at the crow’s call

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An earlier version of this poem appeared in Green’s Magazine

About Joanna M. Weston

Born in England, she lives in British Columbia. She is married with three sons, Joanna has an MA from the University of British Columbia. She has published in numerous anthologies and in magazines in Canada, the US, UK, and New Zealand, such as Canadian Women's Studies, Convolvus, Endless Mountains Review, Grain, Green's Magazine, Prairie Fire, Spin, Wascana Review, CBC Gallery, and many more...
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