And the Moon Finds Its Perch with the Stars

And the Moon Finds Its Perch with the Stars

There’s a moment
as your heart
slips and slows

enough to sleep,
just before your eyes shut

beneath night’s shadowed heft
when fairytales slink
over the backyard fence

to peer through
your bedroom window,

three giggling pigs,
a princess in glass slippers
a wolf with silver-white fangs.

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The Eyes that Reach

Despite the rain, despite the chill, (both I really enjoy quite a lot), today is an exciting day in the Summers’ household for today we welcome a new family member. I’ll explain later. For now, I’ll leave you with this


The Eyes that Reach

“But, grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she said.
“The better to see you with, my dear.”

The eyes that reach
from the shadows
choking the air
hung between the pine limbs,
those eyes, they catch the moon,
burn yellow-red,
doorways to hearts
the beat as wild as drums
before the heat of war –

they may never wish you harm,
content to find harbor
in night’s sanctuary,
but sometimes, perhaps,
harm is all they mean.

A Wish

If you could enter a fairytale, would you alter its unraveling or simply let it unfold as it has time and time again?

Image result for big bad wolf
A Wish

Yes, today, to wrap myself in shadow,
as a shivering child might sink
within a blanket’s cocoon,
to stand as still as lost memories,

a stone beside a forest path,
as an ogre might,
where wolves creep
sniffing for that scent,

a bouquet of innocence,
small ones draped in red cloaks
hefting baskets laden with jams
and warm breads,

to touch an old tale,
to watch that ink drip
from a wrinkled page and delightfully
taint the forest’s floor.