Northwords Now Issue 37

The FREE literary magazine of the North


by Sarah Jessen

Skin as translucent as morning dew,
arteries as delicate as gossamer.
A cry as shrill as an injured selkie.

Unused eyes clouded with haar,
searching for nourishment,
that alabaster nectar

The air burns.
So alien to that liquid enclosure.
A familiar sound.

Swept up and placed on bosom,
two hearts together like moth and flame.