Never Mercy
Don’t let go.
Those words.
Let go of what?
I cast her a look.
Her feet
Ruffled the ground,
The broad dirt pathway.
The forest rises
Around us, branches
Set onto trunks, leaves
Emerge
The sun seeping through
The cliffs. She is
Chestnuts, cable-knit
Sweaters, sewing, books,
Scented candles. All
These things smother me
In autumnal visions
Of her history as she
Passes, the tip of her pale
Face painting her environment.
A bit of dirt, tossed to the side.
Each grain midair, then gone.
Don’t let go.
She continued, but in silence
This time. Something so perfect
Has to always be afraid:
If you accidentally ruin the secret,
Or stub out your talent.
Or you’re too fearful to say the right words
In case they’re wrong. Don’t let go,
She says, if you let go now you’ll never
Be able to get back up again.
Please, hold on. Just a little longer.
I promise it’ll be over soon. Just
Don’t let go
Mazzy Sleep is a nine-year-old from Toronto, Canada, who began writing during the pandemic. She has written over 800 dark fantasy/horror poems and short stories, as well as two feature screenplays. Mazzy’s poetry has also appeared in Hawaii Pacific Review and will be published in four issues of the Queen’s Quarterly, Canada’s oldest scholarly journal. In her spare time, she watches weird cinema and Japanese anime and plays Roblox. mazzysleep.com
