 | | 23/09/2013 23:15
Sur le blog My Kingdom for a Hat
little red
In a time when I still counted years
I skipped from fen to forest
with a basket over my arm,
with offal tripe and fruitcake
tucked into a pouch of love
from mother to grandmother,
and I, the intergenerational messenger,
I skipped from fern to fungi to roots
that stretched out,
angling to ensnare.
I counted brushes of my feet against the ferns
and stones against my heels
and whispers of wind
inflating the lining of my cape.
And when a thin, keening voice
wailed my name between howls at the rising moon,
I didn’t stop to let its portent soak.
I was too steeped in my love of the
numerical,
the...
► L'article complet sur le blog
| | • Votes Look : 0
• Photos : 10
• Langue : Anglais
► Ses autres tenues
► Détails du blog
|
