That Old Black Magic
Pamela Scott
went down to
the woods last
night, in the dark,
moon shining above
went down to
the darkest part
of the woods,
right into the
old black heart
went down, deep
down, until all the
light was gone, until
the dark breathed around me
went down to the old
dying place, the hollow
where the dead used to
dance, way back in darker days
went down to the thin
place, the crack where
the dead can press through,
heard rustling all around me,
heard voices of the dead
went down, way down
to the ancient place,
seeped in blood
and ancient rites,
to the hollow where
the dead have voices
went down, deep down,
saw a group all dressed in
black, masks with red eyes,
take part in an ancient rite,
spill blood, whisper dark rites
went down, way deep
down, saw a dead girl rise
PAMELA SCOTT lives in Glasgow, UK. Her work has appeared in various magazines including Brilliant Flash Fiction, Peeking Cat Poetry, The Cannon’s Mouth, Sarasvati, The Dawntreader and Toasted Cheese Literary Magazine. She has also featured in anthologies published by Collections of Poetry and Prose and Indigo Dreams Press. She is working on her first novel.
Edited by Mike Philips