HOMUNCULUS

The clay head seems to scream

when I open the chest:

an unwanted gift

with secrets trapped in time.

 

Shaped by a mad sailor,

lost helmsman on dark seas,

chaos crew a sub-plot

to some misguided saga.

 

I caress its weight

of barren, merciless islands

cruel as shipwrecks

through heart and soul.

 

Each day a signal to me

it doesn't belong here -

and dragging tangled nets

of memory stuck like seaweed.

 

Traumas that won't fit

inside this change of weather.

 

The Horror Zine, Autumn 2020, Editor Jeani Rector.