he who hunts me carries in his teeth
the knife he used to cut his children from
the body of their mother.

she who haunts me speaks not in words
but in one long, rattling scream.

I killed her under a swollen moon ripe with promises
like the one you made to end her curse
knowing this was not within your power.

this vow you made, a lie
from a peddler of rat placentas and wolfsbane
to a mother who would eat her pups and wake
with kinblood on her lips,
was it mercy or a supplication?

come, fates,
make a cure from this poison
make a healer from this killer
make a dawn from this nightmare

to beg is not my way,
nor was it hers.

he carries his love like a blade
and I carry mine like a ghost
but neither can undo what was done
unspeak the curse
unbury the seed
unspoil the moonlit glade

my only vow
to make a song from this death
hear it now,
blooming beneath the shriveled moon.