starlight twisted in her hair walks at midnight
lady. lady of the crossroads. ‘witch’ trapped in lips and spat
at her like an epithet. and
she’s the shadow by the mirror, the laughter
without people. she’s the falling marbles where no one
lives. thud. they run to her side and they say to stay away
clinging to her hands, cold phantoms along non-existent
skin. clocks ticking unseen in an empty corridor.
she laughs when they call her ‘magic’ when day comes, disdain
dripping from their lips, just like their fear dripped from their palms
the night before. her braids gleam, and her nails shine with a black
too deep to be polish. the day has come and the corridor
is empty. the maze of turns easily navigated in the light.
and then night comes again when day fades
they would prefer her to cackle but her laugh is
softer than a sea breeze. her domain is the mist-covered
roads, paths spread like a tree’s roots, root hairs that tickle
at her feet. Because when the sun sets, and no solution can be found,
black water pooling closer and closer-
About the Author: Syl (they/them) is a nonbinary writer living in Singapore. A fan of fantasy and speculative fiction, they can often be found badgering their friends about social issues, politics, and their latest writing ideas. On top of being a poet, Syl also translates Mandarin pop songs into English, a painful but fulfilling process.
Social media: @Fae_the_Inkspot on twitter