'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
like lolita deflowered; petals picked and teeth red as roses -- the honeycomb melts from your mouth and i take a glance, catch it spinning on that grin and i tie cherry knots with my tongue (i do).
i take those tiny white feathers from the daisy chains of when i was a child. i catch life over my shoulder in glimmering cuts:
i am not fresh shoot green anymore but find a tinge of my child hues in an infant smile in a garden: the buttery yellows of our throats and green of our knee joints knocking like knuckles on the door of home.
(14/08/2017)
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