Taking Flight
She walked across the dew-glass grass,
Quivering-barefoot-soft,
Leaving trails of sugar-cube daisies in her wake.
Gusts of angry wind tore at her hair and whipped
Her dress around the backs of her purple-pale
Ankles, but she did not stop for a second,
She flew across the land with scrawny
Peregrine arms, borne up by clouds
Of song-sweet chickadees and pearl-eye
Pigeons. She left trails of sugar-cube
Daisies in her wake.
Â
Strawberries
Â
The story of us
Spilled out with
The slow silence
Of black-sad strawberries
Bleeding
Drop by drop
Over a white-lace
Tablecloth.
On The Creation of Stars
Â
Every evening,
When the egg-yolk sun melts,
Staining the tops of the trees,
I like to believe that bits of its golden yellow
Zip up to the sky magnet-style,
Clutch at empty lightbulbs hanging
On clear strings, settling growing
Into miniature lanterns fit for
A fairy’s home, if fairies live in space.
Small and bright, they restitch
Themselves into silky silver light,
Keeping the space fairies warm
And keeping our dreams — those fragile,
Fabric things — aloft.
Â