There are a thousand crossing ships where we meet,

In a mist of what, a fog of when, a descending dark of how.

Moments brief, flickering on the seafloor, saltwater-sweet

Yet we slip under, rudderless, a love that this life won’t allow.

In one passing craft, you’d work the night shift and I the day.

Every sunrise you’d leave at six and I’d start at eight, 

I’d craft the effigy of you, through the ...

Caleb had to ignore a lot of voices in his head when he left for the forest.

They spoke in the voices of his village. The elder’s cautionary warnings of wanton women who drifted between places and bewitched naive folk. The tavern-master and his wife, swapping gossip of spotting black magic between the trees while out checking their hare traps. The voice of his mother, hard-headed and practical, ...

It always rains here. Drip, drip, drip

Down the window, the sky bursting

Into floods of tepid tears, a constant downpour

And yet, the sun still shines. Around midday-moon,

Rainbows cross-cross in the sky, impossible highways

Although hard to admire through the brightness,

Residents blink the water from their eyelashes

And hold webbed hands up to block the shine.

The markets are bustling, merchan...