Under Hunter’s Moon

Dye the dark sky in colours.
They are storm, coming.
Ravens churning.
Tempest building.
In a strange and distracted light.
Clouds unfurling into an immense volcanic sky.

When the cry comes, shrill, elsewhere and insistent.
When the unchained dogs howl, biting into the drive of
the otherworld’s breathe.

When Woden rides the horde.
Women, bare chested, hair streaming in the
screaming breath of their horses.
And the multitude of the dead
follows behind.

The Hunter’s Moon lights the silent.
I think that I see you in the sky.
Riding wild, on nightness mount.
Cold clatter of horse beats against nothing.
In a Sanguine sky.
This consecrated pursuit.
This illuminating madness
The roar of the God goes by
As in death you hunt for something you never found
in your life.

[Kelda Crich is a new born entity. She’s been lurking in her creator’s mind for a few years. Now she’s out in the open. Find her in London looking at strange things in medical museums or on her blog. Her poems have appeared in Nameless, Cthulhu Haiku II and the Future Lovecraft anthology.] 

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