Mudblood Prophecy

I cut the charm into the last sheaf

Called the Corn Mother by the old name She answered once then

turned her face

Left the field hollow and the grain ashamed

Moon-phase wrong, the plough refused the ground I drove the cattle through

the hollow tree

Need-fire burned but the smoke went down

Something under the roots began to breathe

The soil remembers

every unpaid debt

Every storm I tried to buy with blood

I hung the animal heads on the fence posts Still the hail

came and chewed the flood (unh!)

I dug beneath the oak where the water speaks

Found a mouth that never needed teeth It offered weather in exchange

for voice I gave the words I used to keep belief

Now the rain falls upward when I sleep

The furrows open wider when I leave

Dogs no longer know the scent I carry

They bark at the shape the dark receives

Field spirits learned my true name slow Practiced the syllables in the

rain When they finish speaking I will not remain Only the mud

will keep the shape I made Only the mud will keep the

shape I made (aahhh!)