Black sails soar as high as pristine white,
As high as fairy thin achievers.
Black sails hide,
But swim as fast.
Black sails comb the trees into unruly tangles,
Unite them into bands,
Into broken pasta strands,
To be eaten one gulp at a time.
Black sails make music,
Music of their own,
Music with you.
Black sails do and reflect,
Rather than wonder in circles.
Black sails put Christmas trees up in the forest,
Black sails leave,
Black sails lead,
Black sails torrent.
Bio: Amy Spaughton is a writer, editor and professional Londoner. She studied for a Masters in Social Anthropology at Edinburgh and has worked as a filmmaker, presenter and museum guide. She is currently working at a reading charity. She originally studied Archaeology but eventually decided to pursue a vocation that involved more time inside. Despite this, she still misses dead things and pretending to be Indiana Jones. She was longlisted for the 2020 Erbacce prize and writes poetry and articles regularly for her blog. Her work has been published online on Mxogymy, The Drizzle Review, Assemblage and The C Word.