, , ,

they tease me from the tall grass
beckoning me with graceful fingers
sprite like figures costumed in promise
wafting the sweet scent of poetry

they have danced for me
many times beneath the summer sun
painting with pigment dipped slippers
on white birch branches at my command

but if I succumb to their charms today
follow them into the dark woods
they will contort and writhe
till their true forms are revealed

black irised and thoughtless
yellow toothed and hungry
with faces sunken and drawn over sharp bones
like lamb carcasses rotting in dry creek beds

and I will squeeze my eyes tight
searching deep inside for the memory
the rich green meadow sprinkled with fairy dust
the soothing tone of cricket and brook

they will throw me bodily
into a deep pot cooking me low and slow
till I am reduced to a thick acrid stew
of my new reality

Playing with symbolism at dVerse today… as if there is anything else worth playing with?