Issue No. 17, Summer 2016

Black Widow

Old woman
wails on rutted knees
red berries strewn
on the ground, the red
of blood.

At evening
berries drain
in the kitchen sink,
a black scarf tight
around her head.

Through the window
rain-gripped mountains
high above the forest
crowd her.

Was he hurrying to see that other woman?

She feeds wood into the hearth,
fans the fire
but the wood too wet
barely stays alive.

Rain falls hard,
like the night she found him,
crushed metal
against a tree,
his head bent.

Loose twigs
pelt her window,
swift tongues
carried on the wind.
Townsfolk talk.

Spirits roused,
ears too close to mouths,
her thoughts scurry
into corners, shelved
like books
in other times.

A spider scuttles
from a corner,
looks for somewhere else
to live.

Old woman
stuck on the sticky thread
of old tales. Love
in the evening,
rain on the sound
of wind, a doused fire
long dying.


Ion Corcos was born in Sydney, Australia in 1969. He has a Bachelor of Arts (Honors) in Philosophy and European Studies, a Bachelor of Science in Biology and Ecology, and an unfinished degree in Modern Greek Studies. Ion’s main love is poetry. The themes of his work centre on life, nature, spirit, and the world. His poems have appeared in Axolotl, Bitterzoet, Every Writer, Ishaan Literary Review, and other journals. Ion also writes short stories, non-fiction, and short plays. His play, “A Flower”, was short-listed in Short and Sweet (2006).

  • Lisa Reily

    I really enjoyed this poem, Ion. Such clear, vivid images and a lovely sad and lonely tone. Congrats on its publication! Lisa 🙂

  • Mira Taylor

    Love the way this tale unravels and I especially like the last stanza. Great stuff 🙂