Will-O’-The-Wisp

By Magdalena Harlow

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Being a Marsh baby, every summer day is swallowed under the tongues of the warm grass with
every last inch humming with humidity; The Folklore and Tall Tales blend right into the
Glasswort.

One fateful evening, a fellow by the name of Will-O’ glowed from the Switch Grass, in deep
tango with the Dusk. Now, attempting to be friendly and all, I asked him if he could stay but he
went just as fast as he came, but he never truly left.

Every hush of cicadas was laced with his voice. Blurring the lines between dreamscape and
nightmare, I felt my sanity being swallowed by the tongue of every Swamp Rose Mallow. He
was luring me, luring me with a Swan Song only I could hear.

Will-O’ was luring me with the light of every last evil this world has to offer, even when
darkness has its back turned. He blessed me with visions of running and falling and chasing and
dying, but I still craved more.

When the winter sank its teeth into my home, I burned the Marsh and in the scorched silhouette,
the same light from that fateful evening smoldered into the night.

Sometimes,
I still feel myself perpetually lost
in that foolish fire.

Magdalena Harlow is a midwestern poet who excels in the style of page poetry, who levitates towards poetic themes such as decay, yearning, and the complexities of gender. Along with poetry, Harlow enjoys oversized cardigans, gouache paint, and Japanese singer-songwriter, Mitski. You can find Harlow on Twitter @magdalenapoetry.

Why we chose this piece: This poem is very different from Razorback, but the voice, imagery, and atmosphere are just as strong. We also enjoy the use of alliteration and sibilance. Overall, a really neat exploration of folklore.