There would be stories of unearthly screams
in the woods next the marshes of Leeds Point.
Little devil child sprung full-armor,
you thirteenth child of a mother
who could not save or name you.
What rumor invented the cloven hooves
that held you upright? The horns,
the bat-like wings, the soul-black eyes?
They say you flew off into thick of briars
across the marshes to the creek
with anguished cries sometime after midnight.
While she stood silent, trembling,
her moist eyes trying to pierce the mist
from out the window where you’d flown.

Your cries forever shiver those souls
who stray too near the old brick house.

 

Jean Anne Feldeisen is a 75-year-old grandmother and psychotherapist living on a farm in Maine. Her first poem was published at age 72, and more publications followed. Her first chapbook, “Not All Are Weeping,” was published by Main Street Rag in May 2023.