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the pixy and the poet

her absinthe-green shoes lay carelessly in the grass

forgotten as she reposed on the live oak’s broad bough

stop smirking, she sulked, i can climb trees in a dress

he smiled down at the rosy lips pursed in a pout

at the wild tangle of hair seeking adventure in the wind

suddenly he felt extremely brave, as if the world were his

and no one could steal the bliss of the moment away

tell me, he said casually, do you belong to anyone?

have the faeries lent you to humanity as a tease

to remind us that they still lurk in the bottom

of gardens and in ancient groves of birches?

or did you spring into being fully-formed

like athena from zeus, only without origin?

she laughed with child-like abandon

glee bubbling up from the tips of her bare toes

i am so ordinary as to be unbearable, she recited

swamp eyes alight with impish mischief

i have a mother and father and brother back there,

and even a being so mysteriously inscrutable as a dog

they took my wisdom teeth so now i play fool

and make foolish people laugh at my lowly rhymes

i breathe air and my stomach growls when i am hungry

i was born twenty years ago, but grew up two hundred

her narrative ended, she gazed back at him

uncertainty shadowing her face

i knew there was a bit of alice about you

he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled

only you could say without a qualm

that you grew up two hundred years ago

and that’s why i —

why you what?  she whispered

he ran a hand over the day’s-worth of beard

adorning his chin and thought how to say it

the truth he’d been longing to tell her

but spoken words had always tripped his tongue

why i think it might be time for tea

they bid farewell to the oak and wandered

back through the cobblestone streets of town

he wanted to hold her hand, but it clutched

her absinthe-green shoes

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