dinner.
grey words float from one
to the other.
spectres of things better not said at all
this fall the faeries seem to take me back reluctantly
and i feel generally forsaken.
i can pick up the twisted
pulse of hungry ghosts in a few
hollow eyes.
conversations live in shadows.
distrust rents the heart.
blackberry ruins.
the garden asked
can you take my vines.
and i did.
more, i took
grapes for wine.
and so this lovely waltz began
visiting dying plants and asking for their bodies
this dance went down,
down into the ditch
where the old water is.
a monster lives there
who thought the wreath
was beautifully wrought.
as a joke it now sits on my head all day.
i dont come back because
he is teaching me to unspeak.
i am learning how to disappear into the trees.
he has me in this way but it's okay.
i ran from my mother
i ran from my father
ive been here before
and ill come out of it
alight.
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