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At night, I leave all the lights on in my head.
This way, I know the dead can find me.
Sometimes they toss me their worldly trinkets:
the moon, wobbly as a child’s loose tooth,
a tuning fork, a spear of lightning for my song.
Like a magpie, I collect them.
I line my own death-nest
with the baubles of the dead.
Nothing, not even death, can harm me.
​

Requiem with an Amulet in its Beak, Elizabeth Knapp

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  • About
    • About
    • CV
  • Galleries
    • Onwaecnan
    • Veneration Of Light
    • Original Framed Works
    • Flora
  • Contact
  • Shop
    • Print Shop
    • Saatchi
  • NEWS