The JuJu Man

By THERESA GAYNORD

Wed, 13 May 2020
  • 380 reads
4 comments
 

The JuJu Man
by Theresa C. Gaynord 

 
First clocks tick among the palest
wheat, longing for night where
glow-worms spark a silken string of
stars as moonbeams bend their arc,
cold as stone, away from gurgling
waters and goblins’ cries. 
 
A dying bat flaps its wings for the
last time before it comes to rest on
the breast of hardened 
soil, modest in
the fallen dew, dwindled to swift decay
with sunken eyes and fading mouth; absent
now from the sweet wine of red grapes, 
 
sucked into empty rinds. The soul splits
into a sombre ghost in sleep, sweet poison
to the rusty hands of time that tremble in
shadows with a faint 
fluttering of cunning
seduction. Unseen from his home in the wood,
the juju man weaves his corn figure,
 
 avenging a wrong; its small face buoyant, as if
commiserating the binding. In the nearby
creek it’s thrown, deep into the peering darkness,
still to dreams never spoken, still to a silence
unbroken, obedient to the juju man's spell of
foul revenge, and all human love and hate.
Certificate 18
Poem
Horror

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

A sinister poem, yet full of mystery. love those lines:-

glow-worms spark a silken string of

stars as moonbeams bend their arc,

cold as stone, away from gurgling

waters and goblins' cries.

Intriguing metaphors..

Jenny.

 

Submitted by THERESA GAYNORD on

Thank you! I appreciate your very kind words!

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Great stuff again, Theresa. This one treads a path between mysticism and clear-eyed observation. Wonderful imagery again.

Parson Thru

Submitted by THERESA GAYNORD on

Thanks so much!