Folk Magic

By VALERIE DUFF 

We are following the hearse,
the body in the hearse steady
as a tree, Not my father
any longer jagged timber,

skidded from the world.
Winter face, eyes tight, reject
the earth. Ground, rough out
Arabian night, let him drown

in trunk and sap. Hoofbeats
hover on the chintz.
Hands, upend the seamless
flying carpet. Wagon

that’s been rigged to bear
sharp wind, brace
for final shift. Put your faith in
blue hydrangea ground to powder.

 

Valerie Duff is the author of the poetry collection To the New World.

Listen to Valerie Duff and Leslie McGrath read and discuss “Folk Magic” on our Contributors in Conversation podcast.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 07]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Folk Magic

Related Posts

A window on the side of a white building in Temple, New Hampshire

Dispatches from Søgne, Ditmas Park, and Temple

JULIA TORO
Sitting around the white painted wood and metal table / that hosted the best dinners of my childhood / my uncle is sharing / his many theories of the world / the complexities of his thoughts are / reserved for Norwegian, with some words here and there / to keep his English-speaking audience engaged

November 2025 Poetry Feature: My Wallonia: Welcoming Dylan Carpenter

DYLAN CARPENTER
I have heard the symptoms play upon world’s corroded lyre, / Pictured my Wallonia and seen the waterfall afire. // I have seen us pitifully surrender, one by one, the Wish, / Frowning at a technocrat who stammers—Hör auf, ich warne dich! // Footless footmen, goatless goatherds, songless sirens, to the last, Privately remark—