banjo cold harmony wrench me back to the dark black root mist washed slumber of years ago dreamscape sorrow of clot colored feet into soil of black and white things i should have known i should have been born with amber slick strings and hollow wolfen cries of haint colored twilight where the weather, faces, smiles skin were all grey so we arch knot-stitched backs stretch stomachs bare our lungs to blood-coaled tongues take our fingers to step-stone grasp each bleach white rib as solid as scripture is this bone we string our hair between space and pluck scream play scream sing scream weeping willowed smile of tooth rotted soul but we are the crucible where fire purifies pitched mournful crow-tethered nights they call music they call singing they don’t see eyes, hands, lungs, parts for the hole legacy, calls back from days when this screaming was all we had
Karah Tull has a Bachelor of Arts in Literature and a Master of Arts in Education from the University of Tennessee. She was the winner of the 2018 writing Fellowship to the Wilma Dykeman Literary Festival in Hot Springs, hosted by Amy Greene.
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