Cristine Gostinski Costa
When fleeing the village, I got lost
I found a singer on the forest trails
She performed a bird’s song with her voice
And dared to talk to me
Without a tone of mockery
To her I wasn’t a monster
She was the first to sing my melody
The wolf form or the soft bruised skin
She had loved me gently
A language I didn’t think I deserved to hear
Holding my heart, flesh and jaw bones
Her voice set my soul ablaze
Melting the skeletal cage inside of me
The sound of cicadas prevailed many nights
But I never wanted to hear her quietude
Its stillness distressed me
It never brought me fullness
How do I love her?
Like the sharp teeth that fill up my mouth
I love her more than all blood
That can spurt from my throat
From the bites she gives me
I have no other God but her voice
Cristine Gostinski Costa is a writer and artist from Brazil who loves the rain and the smell of oranges. Her poetry or art has appeared or is forthcoming in Moss Puppy Mag, Green Ink Poetry, Mausoleum Press, levatio and Anti-Heroin Chic. You can find her on Twitter @WinterGhoull.
Spooky Gaze 