harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
my body is the hollow hide of a plum tree that rotted in the driveway. when i leapt from the car and was dropped in pink gravel some summers ago -- where lavenders buzzed with bees in a honeyed morning glow.
i was one wet droplet of sleep away from a star gazing, stellar-glazed dream. it was enough to make me weep: those cloud-soaked nights where the doors rattled with rain that i could not keep --
and my newfangled mouth knew with its milk teeth and kitten mews; that it was play pretend in sweet fangs, sugared petals and my love's pangs.
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