Savanna Wegman 

 savanna.wgmn@gmail.com




Bestiary

A score for the young boy with the minotaur mask








[the dove finds a lover]




To ones almond eyes, our crafts become mythic

Stone vessels to feed the river lips




One pours out of mouths, a molten beast

unfolding her as the

empire mother




Like the living orca’s heartbeat




Hold our young castle,

Woven into earth with hair and honey




“Take your weapon and carve

into these walls”

In textured folktale

sculpt your own codex







[seven blessings in the silence]




And all I want to do

is speak in a beguiling tongue,




Braid my blood so I may

cross the styx.







Be careful with the gods

Smoke inscribes above the spire




Heaven could be anywhere here




I feel the scripture

inside this open bestiary,

it’s holding my shoulders

And breathing me in.







[some liquid of life, abundant]




A babe is born, wrapped in wings.

In her womb, I found mist flowers.

Hair collects the rain, then the spirits.




She tunes her harp,

Hands bathed in pomegranates

Today her harp is weeping.

Together they whisper,

each a mother for

the silence.







As one learns these quiet acts of god

Every quest breeds like the bees —   







[melting, obsidian]




A heart with a knife tattooed on the floor

Tiles spiral a sun

And theres a ladder in the corner

for each of the skies

The lamplight flirts

Vaulting with the storm




She attaches the wings to her ears

Her hair dripping in myrrh

Fury in the nearing haze







[exiled, in a garden]




A child rushes bare

            toward dream

With the bite of a larking




The child’s wingspan

Yoked around an ancient tree




The child’s eyes pressed

to the strange sky delight




This beginner

Is shy         in the loving




All transfigures

Rare visions of creation




A toy theatre

With salamander arms

Burns a blue flame




The Child’s eyes

Stained glass for the

Late afternoon sun  




Awaiting the scene

Where he becomes the garden




︎︎︎