one more night; that was a good one. turn the page of your favourite book and see a new chapter has been written while your head was in the clouds. the words unravel at their zoetic seams, pouring down your arms sticky like molasses and thrice as sweet. there was a garbage fire on Main Street so instead of hitting the dive (like usual) you started walking and.... oh dear, halfway across the country you realize how impossibly muddy your boots are. you change your name. some undiscovered flower, or maybe a Shakespearean faerie. you recall on a warm vespertine breeze the soft velvet of a dress you wore as a little girl, the dizziness that followed your first-ever beer, the way your grandmother would wave her hands above the stately white candles she would light on the Shabbat. one more memory; that was a good one.
run now. i run now. i run away on gold soles, winged slippers, don’t tell anybody where i end up. doors close directly after i vanish past their thresholds, this land is bittersweet, dip me like a candy treat and gift me with your sugar kiss. when i wake up i’m afraid that the monster under my bed will fall in love with me and i’ll be trapped in another too-big house with broken stained glass windows. that’s the thing about commitment of space—despite how i crave a warm being beside me, the ever-comfort of freedom is just that much more enticing. freefall freefall freefall into the eventuality of my own infinite independence.
race headlong into another supersized mystery. leave a tangled knot of rainbow yarn; return a shimmering star, exploded and scared and so, so sacred. and i will not come back the same. and i will not come back the same. and i will not come back the same.
—Published previously on Instagram (31 January 2020, the poet’s 400th
posting on Instagram); appears here with poet’s permission.
hails from the Lower East Side of Manhattan (New York, USA) and posts her poetry
to Instagram: @poet.faerie.magic