Banshee

Gather round the table dressed
with Granny’s wedding china 
and Brussels lace cloth,
for a banshee has spoken,
returning three times 
in my dreams, her long, 
russet hair whispered over
my cheeks, her pale eyes 
held me between purgatory
and heaven. But dreams
are not reality unless 
given purchase.
So eat 
from the briny breath
of the sea, drink 
from the fruit of sun-kissed 
grapes, kiss with life-loving lips 
and pray our charms 
hold back death.

Na/GloPoWriMo day 30 prompt: Today, try writing your own poem that discusses a real or mythical being or profession (demons, firefighters, demonic firefighters) with the same sort of musing yet dispassionate tone.

It’s the last day of Na/GloPoWriMo 2026! It’s been a pleasure to read, write, and create another month of poetry. See ya next year!