2 poems by Annabelle Markwick-Staff 

Hekate

Hekate lustrates the night with juniper –

Soteira, saviour – shifts three ways

to see us home.

I shiver at the crossroads –

pub signs creak, sodium torches

stain me saffron – turn broken glass into stars.

I reach for the Moon,

a pearl – fruit of infinite irritation –

which dominates our bitter world.

Mist undulates like camels

up the street.

Only seekers are still out –

wanting something sharp

as dog barks, soft as ghosts.

Glittering in the gutter, I find – a key.

Ancestors

The first horse chestnut rises

from the clay – branches cradling

glossy skulls.

I reach for them

through the leaf-storm,

seek facts in autumn scratch.

Ancestors lurk round every corner,

haunting my haunts,

I’ve walked their walks – all along.

They grow in the The Garden Museum,

Highgate foxes guard their bones,

in Edmonton, Eternity is a party –

Black Cat follows me home.

The ancestors call me with river voice,

my DNA sparks with their signs,

I feel my skull through my face –

their faces combined.

_______________________

Annabelle Markwick-Staff graduated with an MA in Writing Poetry from the Poetry School/ Newcastle University. Her poems are published in Popshot, Kindred Spirit, London Grip, Sage Cigarettes and Black Bough Poetry Christmas-Winter Anthology Volume 4. She is annabelleocto on Instagram.