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My Leviathan


My Leviathan
by Angela Boswell

When you had been slain, I wept stars
over your fallen form.
They gave dimension to the dark
and their numbers swelled to oceans.

When I saw that you would never rise
and my well was dry,
I vowed to the formless dark
that you would live.

I spread out your flesh to make land
and your blood ran in rivers
from mountains of teeth, through meadows
of softest fur,
to a shore of golden scales.

Breath stirred the grasses, and one eye
looked down from the heights of day,
the other
from the depths of night.

Time, too, took on your likeness
as summer
was when we loved,
and winter when I lost you.

* * *

Angela Boswell has been making stuff up ever since she was a kid who wrote origin stories for each of her brothers.  These days she works as a reference librarian who has to stick to the facts, but still finds time to bend them in her writing.

What do you think is the attraction of the fantasy genre? 

I think it's the way more things are possible, how you don't have to stop politely at the boundaries of reality.

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