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The Host

breaking free

of surface tension


In starlight we slip shadow to shadow, scanning the sky for wings black against the moon’s white eye. We scrabble through forests of wiry branches clawing our clothes and skin. Over sharp-edged rocks, wading fetid swamp haunted by slimy creatures. We mark the moon’s slow arc across the dome until mother sun wakes, her radiant face cleanses our world of night horrors.


monsters knock

on my window

Abstract Architecture

Marilyn Humbert lives in Sydney NSW Australia. Her tanka and haiku appear in international and Australian journals, anthologies and online. Her free verse poems have been awarded prizes in competitions, published online, in anthologies and journals most recently  Black Bough Deep Time 2, and FemAsia Magazine.

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