For Jane – Pretty things

“Oh you pretty things

don’t you know you’re driving your mama’s and papa’s insane?” – David Bowie

thumbelina.jpgtake a leaf out of this book

fold it into a veined ship

let it sail the hazel brook

dried through fleet summer

now brackened with steam liquor

intoxicating swaying blackbird to

fly close to glassy reverie

their glossy ebony wing

hinting blue and green against

dappled light won with coffee grain

we didn’t rise with the lark nor

make nesting bed for a penny to bounce

high and glittering

we ate buttered toast with frozen fingertips

leaving crumbs of ourselves beneath

pillows indented by dream

for who knows how long

any river has?

then warm days shall absolve this tender

frost blinking in iridescent snow fall

drying out magic divination

cupped in saucers of captive water

the little girl thinks fairies must

look out at her as she peers down

through velvet moss and snail sheen

carving runes

what worlds of worlds of worlds

beneath our flat-footed certainty

stir against shy bramble

our fruit ever sweeter on tongue

as thimbled nectar

for children still believe

amid our pastures creatures swim

in silver netting like gowns of

spider silk and berries redder than

earnest lover

shush, if you stay your curious hand

turn not the faucet nor start the washer

in Thumbelina’s kingdom music stirs

as old as life

holding up the unseen world

 

For Jane. Put another log on the fire for me.