I: WITCHLIGHT


That vividness—
     witch light in pearl eyes;
     I long to raise my ear to you
     for you gleam like a shell,
     your hollowness holding
     a delicate song, billowing
     out like a spell of sand.

The Last Enchantment
by Michael R. Burch

Oh, Lancelot, my truest friend,
how time has thinned your ragged mane
and pinched your features; still you seem
though, much, much changed—somehow unchanged.

Your sword hand is, as ever, ready,
although the time for swords has passed.
Your eyes are fierce, and yet so steady
meeting mine ... you must not ask.

The time is not, nor ever shall be,
for Merlyn’s words were only words;
and now his last enchantment wanes,
and we must put aside our swords ...

Originally published by Trinacria. Keywords/Tags: Lancelot, King Arthur, Arthurian, Merlin, last enchantment, round table, knights, sword, swords, England, stone, Excalibur, chivalry, Camelot, loyalty, friendship, magic, prophecy, Once and future King, Celtic, Anglo-Saxon



Sun Poem
by Michael R. Burch

I have suffused myself in poetry
as a lizard basks, soaking up sun,
scales nakedly glinting; its glorious light
he understands—when it comes, it comes.

A flood of light leaches down to his bones,
his feral eye blinks—bold, curious, bright.

Now night and soon winter lie brooding, damp, chilling;
here shadows foretell the great darkness ahead.
Yet he stretches in rapture, his hot blood thrilling,
simple yet fierce on his hard stone bed,

his tongue flicking rhythms,
the sun—throbbing, spilling.

stories are made for enchantment
our hearts are even meant
we hold hands
staring at each others eyes
and there's a spark
the hints of lies

Enchantment is a fools game,
one we’ll play with raw abandon.

Tastes of bitter honey,
of wishes we can’t count on.

Consider your challenge called,
before the end you will be mine.

I hope you know what you’re asking for,
to the risks I remain blind.