Eliza Tungusnakur
Hawthorne Aisle (Valley of the Trickster)
Carry those mortal treads,
Down
Your Hawthorne aisle.
“Walk forward, Come towards Me, Child.”
Ah, I’m in Your House
Now,
Loptr, Sire.
“But I am, always, In your house; It’s the same, my Fire.”
Shivering in the
Sanctuary
Of this novel Haven.
When the fog Lifts, sun stings, Embrace your Elation.
Grant me Your Truth!
Come out, Scar Lip —
Show Your Face!
Here now, The wind howls like the Kulning, oh Grace.
Two cards
Spit, crooning;
Lands a neat row:
“Darling, We should give it a go.” …Would you really ask me so?
Teacher, Protector,
Lover —
Here is my Church.
Skin prickling, we Ramble down Hawthorne, No longer in search.
Between familiar slopes,
There and here, You say:
“Build me a Home.”
Where, here? In our Chaote House I’ll write songs to Old Love.
Remember this
As the Day
That Sky Treader, stared.
Bedlam God, Dandelion in palm, Eyes alight, sweared: “Sváss, we’d make an excellent pair.”
Eliza Tungusnakur
Eclectic Technopagan. Student of Animism. Dark Folk Music Nerd. Part-time goth. Loki Devotee. Creating Community. She/Her, 33, Scotland.