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.