poem sprite

she’s an imp
-ossible combination
of phrase and space,
kerning herself
around the moon, an

i am
-bic pen. a wren. a crow
contemplating murder,
a murmuring swallow, a hum
-ming bird following its own
bright tail.

sand is fairy dust. snails
are swirled spirit animals
blazing a slippery trail of truth.

the sea: her own salt.

she’s seasoned by
spring, sage, some
distant rosemary tea
jangle, a tangle of whim
and whist and spectacular

she’ll write
her way out of a paper
just to crawl right back in
again, so she can be alone
(she prefers parchment to thrones.)

she’s known
for delirious pebbled promises
strewn across various wandered
beaches, reaching limbs
aching for breeze.

she contemplates
sighs the song
of the trees.



Written for Quickly’s Winter Doldrums

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