Leave it there

By: Lydia Crow


Leave it there, my love,
Lest you disturb far more
Than dust and bones
And corpses of flies
Who withered in the attic there
During long, hot summers
When the room’s dead air
Was still and thick,
Yet safe.

Leave it there, my love,
Lest you lie in bed
Awake at night
Scared and alone
As her voice wails high
Through the summer air
Long after dark, and dry
Creaking wings beat
The night.

Leave it there, my love,
Lest I wake in the morning
And find you gone,
Switched for a changeling
Of grass and straw
And though I’ll weep
I will see you no more.

Leave it there,
My love.


Concealed shoes: Australian settlers and an old superstition


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