The Feu Follet

Marsh fires warmed the hands
of the ancestors stored in my body,
the warmth of a fire beckons

me like an old friend.
Out on open water,
I know not to follow

wisps wandering on
the horizon like painted
gold leaf. A glow catches

the unsuspecting, pulling
many down mysterious passes
where no light can reach, not me.

Beckoning the watcher to follow
as a ghostly siren might elsewhere.
We call them swamp spirits,

ghost lights, feu follet. We never wonder
what they might be. Their light
warms us, we welcome
the power of the unknown.

Author of the article

Emily M Goldsmith (they/them) is a queer Louisiana Creole poet originally from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Emily received their MFA in Poetry from the University of Kentucky and their PhD in English and Creative Writing from the University of Southern Mississippi. A Pushcart-nominated poet, their creative work can be found in or forthcoming from Gnashing Teeth Publishing, Moist Poetry Journal, Zaum, The Penn Review, La Creole Journal, Fine Print Press, Eucalyptus Lit, and elsewhere.