Write and Wrong: A Place for Poetry

 In pursuit of his favourite business, poetry, the ever-hopeful and gentle Aswin has produced the first issue of a promising online magazine, Write and Wrong. 

I am super-proud that my poem gets to be in such exalted company – many of the other poems blew my mind. Born of a short academic excursion into the area of fairytale studies, it is titled 'Wuns'.

A toast to this newborn.

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Witching Hour

A god, they call him

that sets ablaze the morning.

He can keep his bland light

and his lumbering chariot.

For me the blackness of the night.

The chilly breeze beckons,

charged

with a thousand possibilities.

I soar,

the wood slim and firm

between my thighs.

My laughter fills the sky like moonlight.

The witching hour, they call it.