An Imprecation by Travis Wright


An Imprecation


Bravo, young birds, for I have long admired

your secret

societies, for across

the forested shore, through your carols

and paths of jubilee,

I have long sought

the origins of your quiet country. Do not forbid

my passage,

gentle, gentle birds. Inspect my instruments,

my coat, my spectacles and hat–––

I am no spy, dear birds,

but see how grief has worn me bare.

I carry no harm, though huntsmen

fill the horizon,

urging their company forward in files through

the morning fog.

May they be swallowed

like roots buried beneath the bones of things.

For we who flee have

only the charred columns of memory to guide us

through so vast

an army of deceit.

Remember us when you find what is true.




Travis Wright



Travis Wright is a graduate student in Charlotte, NC where he lives with his wife Emily and their two children. His work has appeared previously in the Brooklyn Quarterly, Anthropocene, and ARTOS, among others, and his poem 'Naomi' appeared in Dust's first issue.

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