Dance with the stars,
howl with the moon.
Shed our skins,
free our wings.
Slip past the veil,
spin their tales.
No here or there –
we feast together.
Brooms in hand, we fly tonight –
our joy a chorus of laughter.
Trees disrobe as we remember
what dies will live again.
Sharp tongues lick delicate skin,
cuts go unseen.
Muffled pinpricks leave no trace,
words minced with a feather sword.
Teeth sink deeper than the sound of the bark,
but faded bite marks are easily concealed.
Capsized somewhere north of nowhere,
crushed beneath the weight of fate.
I lost my face one time too many –
you wouldn’t recognize me anymore.
Sweating under the summer sun,
I taste the fruits of my labor that have won.
Dancing among the whistling wheat,
I give thanks for all that lays at my feet.
White-hot flames lick skin.
Phantom limbs sway in the past –
embers of what was.
