Suppression, etc.
By
Crystal Sidell
Suppression
Something buried very deep,
giggled and panted
and giggled again.
And the rain came down
upon the cathedral.
An idea--
A door pushed open
in the dark.
Watching from the window,
a small, dark, withered face,
lit uncertainly
by a candle-flame:
for a second or two,
afraid to be noticed.
Now,
winking up
from the splashing dark.
The Beast’s Fate
It might as well have been Halloween
with that mask you pulled over your face--
contorted lines, haphazard colors,
and a flash of fang.
I’ve read about you in grim fairy tales:
the wolf scheming deeds under the weight
of Granny’s nightcap;
the prince cursed to beastliness
after delivering an unforgivable slight.
Sometimes the lycanthrope dies,
his head placed on a stake for all to see.
Sometimes the prince shatters
his animalistic exterior and thrives heartily.
As the atmosphere yields to your mutation, I wonder:
What kind of beast are you?
And how do you define happily-ever-after?
Buried headless in the ground?
Or afloat with tears and laughter?
The Summoned
Sounds in the cold mansion:
a rattle and knock,
knock and rattle.
Suspecting it might
have been summoned
from the moonshine,
we waited with
dread expectancy.
The windstorm
secured a voice.
It wheezed,
“Who is it?”
And we welcomed
poor brother,
buried in the summer.
Tampa Bay native Crystal Sidell grew up playing with toads in the rain and indulging in speculative fiction. She draws inspiration from the natural world, travel, and all things spooky. A Pushcart/ Best of the Net/ Dwarf Star Nominee and Rhysling Finalist, her work appears in 34 Orchard, Apparition Lit, BFS Horizons, Eye to the Telescope, On Spec, Sprawl Mag, Strange Horizons, Trollbreath, and others. You can find her on various social media platforms @sidellwrites
By
Crystal Sidell
Suppression
Something buried very deep,
giggled and panted
and giggled again.
And the rain came down
upon the cathedral.
An idea--
A door pushed open
in the dark.
Watching from the window,
a small, dark, withered face,
lit uncertainly
by a candle-flame:
for a second or two,
afraid to be noticed.
Now,
winking up
from the splashing dark.
The Beast’s Fate
It might as well have been Halloween
with that mask you pulled over your face--
contorted lines, haphazard colors,
and a flash of fang.
I’ve read about you in grim fairy tales:
the wolf scheming deeds under the weight
of Granny’s nightcap;
the prince cursed to beastliness
after delivering an unforgivable slight.
Sometimes the lycanthrope dies,
his head placed on a stake for all to see.
Sometimes the prince shatters
his animalistic exterior and thrives heartily.
As the atmosphere yields to your mutation, I wonder:
What kind of beast are you?
And how do you define happily-ever-after?
Buried headless in the ground?
Or afloat with tears and laughter?
The Summoned
Sounds in the cold mansion:
a rattle and knock,
knock and rattle.
Suspecting it might
have been summoned
from the moonshine,
we waited with
dread expectancy.
The windstorm
secured a voice.
It wheezed,
“Who is it?”
And we welcomed
poor brother,
buried in the summer.
Tampa Bay native Crystal Sidell grew up playing with toads in the rain and indulging in speculative fiction. She draws inspiration from the natural world, travel, and all things spooky. A Pushcart/ Best of the Net/ Dwarf Star Nominee and Rhysling Finalist, her work appears in 34 Orchard, Apparition Lit, BFS Horizons, Eye to the Telescope, On Spec, Sprawl Mag, Strange Horizons, Trollbreath, and others. You can find her on various social media platforms @sidellwrites
