My steps spill rain from trees and the trees reveal the old dream faces. I write to them and Rhys sleeping and Lucy who lives in these woods. Apologies, stream of consciousness, echo poems dying for the echo: I roll these notes in leaves with ribbons bright enough to catch their eyes. In the hollows and deep branches I slip these scrolls in abandoned nests and coloured bottles. Under the bitter cherry my diary with the belts and the pin on a string, I keep it buried: the hole and earth under my nails, all the invisible living.

About Ariel Dawn

Ariel Dawn is a poet and cartomancer living in Victoria, B.C. Her work appears most recently in Litro, Literati, Ink Sweat & Tears, dusie, Guest, talking about strawberries all the time, Coven Editions Grimoire and Train. She is working on a collection of poetry and prose inspired by tarot cards and folklore.

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