One Poem By Eleanor Gray

what passes between us was on the road to the otherworld?
wet pine, the wounded hearts of riders, the tears of all time
dark horns that forge the way to sleep

with dreams where love is

before flame, before arrow
nothing was hidden in our eyes, from each other
an evening spattered with mire, the old voice of a sea-vow
forever broken

moony night, sad valley woman, scythe and ax sing
against an unimpeachable wilderness

too many animals for the soul to hold
shivering beneath familiar blue dusk

where the harvesters of night now gather, shadows of
old river crones that collect their wintertoken of wolfsbane,
nightshade, their names and gray hair atangle

will, they too, never know the depths of our world?
in a bell-jar lilies push thin weight, the dark soul of contrition
the throat empties itself onto the black stretch of sagacious sea

the sounds of crowlaw, spilling into every unutterable distance
the heart sets itself out against wolftime pastures, for love of you

water-pale white song, leaf-blind, always, a voice in the forest
rising in the arms of her lover

wearing the silver memory of wolfskin

the hunter with the red spirit, between us, from a place where blood
bellows back to the original wound

I am unrecognizable,
outside of this love, away from you

what world rejects us, winged eros? what is faith
outside of the body? her mouth is lightless
for my death

the dark eye is the hour of autumn,
we cannot rest in this land of the terrible other,
I see her in every mortal dusk

white with her wreath of speechless lily and keep,
bride of evening, lark of wounded wing,
what old gods reside in your promise?

thus, the indigo sea dissolves into her other,
and all is filled with that black and holy love

By Eleanor Gray


Eleanor Gray is, well, the other co-founder of Figroot Press. She currently resides in California with her cat, PS4 and a very beloved collection of books. She graduated from Sacramento State University with a BA in English Literature and has been writing and reading religiously for as long as she can remember. It is hard to find an open and vibrant community of other writers; she wishes to attain and commit herself to a little world consisting of other passionate poets, artists, writers and readers.

You can find her on Tumblr at: http://smakka–

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