Repercussions
Marilyn Humbert
In the time of falling leaves
tidings of magpies swirl
chimney-tops
I stop a moment,
pen poised, ruffling pages
in my mind
pale-men like mist
in hollows of oak and pine
gather below the crags of morn’
where land and sky knit
breakers sniff sand-riven shore;
the haunt of screaming gulls,
and the flood-tide of shadows
pinned under the breath
of those pale-men.
I’ve seen changelings;
the battle lined, fear stained
sprouting horns and devil’s tails,
pale-men touched
by the curse of ancient gods,
repatriated to the present
victims, fighting spectres
from the past.