that faraway look, thinking
of a story book fable starring that dragon slayer
who lifted your heart by five finger discount; instead
to be leaping across lily pads strapped to
an amphibian back
like
a slab of beef expiring, your eyes
betray all as if dousing sparks; unlocking
secrets buried inside the Artic where volcanic lava
once flowed before frost settled, forming
china white porcelain blanketed
in calibration

Faith aka: She Who Hugs A Lot












