For Sarah Lawless, in the Wolf’s Hour

mandrake

sing your dark songs to me

fill my head with visions;

drowned in ointment,

sink into the bloody soil of my flesh

send your roots deep

into the rotted heart of me

erase the pain;

send my soul tumbling

to distant worlds

as I dream the strange dreams

that are your gift;

give me your wings

shaped from shadow,

woven of loam and need

when I wail like a newborn babe,

whimper like a dog

half-dead on the road;

man, dragon,

help me to hear

let me feel anew

open my eyes

and let me see.

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