Atalie Scrivener


Sending Letters to the Devil

Sending letters to the devil by bottlemail,
cork secured forcefully thirteen times (for luck).
We’ve been conferring by waves of blazing air,
discussing our plans for the potential.

He floats over blistering oceans on
anaemic clouds tinted timid.
Loosely gripping the reins as galactic
atmospheres acquiesce in his favour.
Greeting my qualms with a
smile heaved eyebrow-high.
Hieroglyphics guard our
conversation from prying eyes,
intricate yet elegant: refined.

My devil secures his
ashen tie with one hand,
straightening his suit with the other.
I agree to meet him on the
aquatic bed at first light.
I keep to my word,
like the blue to the sky.
Before the sun has wholly risen,
I have already accepted the gift.

Sat cross-legged underneath
prevailing tides of combustion,
I slide the tie around my neck.
Tipping my head back;
the flames laugh with me.



Atalie Scrivener is a female poet from the southeast of England. She prides in being a guilty tea addict; whom stubbornly prefers the wandering eccentricity of her daydreams to hard work.


One comment

  1. Odd, not without interest. You are a poet. Doesn’t matter whether female or male. The poem is what counts, not your gender, although it is a detail for a footnote, perhaps. I look forward to reading more of your work. Your gift is quite palpable.

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