Previous contributions from:
Frances Roberts-Reilly
Skeleton Woman: Cremator of bones
With automatic hand
Your oar, strokes amorously.
Your boat
Gliding on the river.
Wing’d Heart
Naiveté says, a women’s heart is a white wing,
Flying high and free in the clear blue sky.
Yet hers is a downward winged spiral. A descent.
Hecate’s Supper
You know these roads –
Here at the crossroads,
Where Hecate’s hounds
Howl at night.