Pitch Bone Whistle
by Valerie, darling
Our women taught us the cure for a quivering heart:
Flush the wound and force a seizure.
Go find the deer and burn their shed horns
to bone black. Smudge your eyelids until you
feel your eyes press back. Make a nest of
moss and the resin that gushes from your tree
in tired rivulets. If a fox barks at you, then
follow him. Gather the leaves and stems he touches
with his tail. Press them to paper
between the pages of your lover’s book.
When loving them has become too much, and
it feels like your soul is split, an owl
will leave mouse bones outside your bedroom door.
Gather the bird and their feathers that stick
from gummy blood on the quick. Litter the
baseboard with them. Spit on your knuckle and
knead the empty socket of an animal skull.
Eat the corner of your tarot card,
then blow through a bone and listen to it sing.
Valerie, darling (she/her) is an author living in Los Angeles. You can find her via @softcorekitsch on Instagram.