Palettal Prose: Calling Wild

     I call to the North, to the

darkness that corrupts and

buries, poisoning the daylight.

    I call to the South, to the 

fires that lick and burn, guitless

and harsh.

I call to the East, to madness

that masquerades as truth

without apology.

     I call to the West, to storms

that torment and roil, ravaging

everything in their path.

Come close, bear witness

As I dig deep in the mud and

Press it softly to my skin.

I am the darkness

I am utter failure.

I am unredeemed loss.

I am forgetting and forgotten.

I am unbearable weakness.

I am the fire.

I am dark passion.

I am biter and angry.

I am mistake made over

and over without regret.

I am unsatiated desire.

I am great hungering flesh.

I am the madness.

I am babbling and confused.

I refuse to follow.

I do not know the way

and will not ask.

I imagine things

that cannot be seen,

and believe in things

I cannot prove.

I am the storm.

I am always,



I am rough.

I am fierce.

I refuse to keep to small.

I am messy and wicked and

I am big, soft, round,

unrepentant flesh.

Come to me, sisters.

I am foul-tempered,



and rude.

Come together

there’s trouble to brew.

~Katharine Saunders, We’Moon