The stick clatters on linoleum
——dropped .. .   .
as i mouth softly, “No..”There are more poets than swings left
in this linePink and overstuffed, a paper-cliché piñata dangles, jocund
from a makeshift hook .. from the rain-stained drop ceiling
the cafeteria is noisy with its spilling…trite trinkets
slavish sweets

My sighs are stymied
My throbbing heart becomes a burning hunger—to cringe—
and never binge at that buffet
Bring her the bucket, give him my plate.

I drop the stick…
and it clatters.

my silence is a better bait
it carries..   into the dark
it calls:  out
we quicken there

as bedfellows no longer estranged
prefacing our writs with Un
are we witnessed? or just witnesses
gulping the night
peering up at pinpricked myths
a new moon has just begun the bright fortnight
and we are the best ever secret in our faceless faces
“I might be invisible,” says my hush
you turn your squint to see

we are only shadows
we are not unnoticed

my reach foretells the rough grooves of bark
on fingertips
the well-known climbing oak looms
all-about-before us
the night air zings electric life
—like chilled infinity dense with ionic fireflies—
my cautious inching finds instead a gnarling root
–for trip-toe asunder stumble
…breathless laughter ensnares you
finally—fumbling close hand and knee
for this, our earthen, grounding solace

we are back inside some halflight glimpse
back, behind prismatic lens
like kaleidoscopic flies, tapping tongues to sugar glass
we consume the witch’s window
earn our freedom
whiffing the damp hue of mossy musk
and quirking ears to snapping path………afar a wilder wolfmoan wind

Don my paper wings from a Polaroid of trickier treats
I’ll use your cape…
We flit amidst the dewy cool of a truly wider gist

These static symbols align
.. alight for us like newborn woodland sprites
in some exotic fledgling flight
they incant our stuttering awe
sparking deep inside hard pressed precious.. .

we are only shadows
we are not unnoticed
in sky pioneers
moissanite missiles from beyond the hunter’s belt
riding time in light
to spring untallied ahhhhs
to collect like dusting echoes
upon assorted pixie keepsakes

we are ever crisp
spraying tart rivulets
from crunch of Eden teeth
each lavishly tongued seed
begs to be spat
will beg all creation time again
despite us





©caitlin ann easter, 05.08.14

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