The Sentinel is lost again,
drawn towards the belly
of the bog.
Guarding what? Where?
Flickering behind the treeline,
a yellow shimmer?
Shush, dear, shush.
Nearly there,
a few more steps…
The stars are blindfolded
by the fog.
Marshland is all there is.
The echoed cries
of his relief
drowning in the mire
pierce
the pressing sheet of silence.
Marshland feeds upon the stray,
as the glimmer lures him
on the plate.
Stumbling forward
he presents himself.
A hidden face bares its teeth
readying to seize the fool.
Blood-cry,
splatter.
Dinner is served.

Tuur Verheyde is a twenty-two year old Belgian poet and student, currently completing a Master’s Degree in English, Literature and linguistics at the University of Ghent. Although Dutch is his first language, Tuur writes poetry exclusively in English.