Tongues

wolf's moon

wolf’s moon

They speak in tongues
I cannot understand
gibberish
wild incantations
that beckon the moon
I know it’s the moon
they summon
in that tiny church
they throw wide
the door
descend on the
blackness
their garments
glow blue
in the candle light
their breath
spirituous
the minds bald
swept clean save
for a single desire
to join the wolves
in song
they tilt their heads
expose their throats
and howl

For Real Toads incorporating a selection of words from Sylvia Plath’s, The Moon and the Yew Tree.. (an amazing poem).

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11 thoughts on “Tongues

  1. My sisters and I sang “Little Brown Church in the Vale’ when we were young … not certain why, your poem made me think of it this evening. Nice thoughts.

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