Banshee
Father, I am afraid— they’ll check if I’ve decayed. Papa, please hold me underneath your yew tree. I fear my own lampshade of what remains to cascade; still we, as people, remain unfree; the future folds where I cannot be. Mother, I am unmade, yet you give me a gold braid. Mama, please put me on your knee to watch you brew strange tea for me. All I have known has been reweighed; too much, we’ve been betrayed. Teach me not to plead— there must be a fee for the key. Lover, I am frayed, though I promise I shall not degrade. Beloved, please don’t flee— come with me to the sea. If someday I do not hold a blade to serve a blockade, I hope to return to the debris, and not drift forevermore— a banshee. -Dearest Darya
