The Winter of My Discontent

I shall call this the Winter of my Discontent
(Inspired by Marcy Playground and The Lumineers Angela)

Dreams collapsed together so that all remains
Is some ephemeral blue flying thing
Nondescript Soul in snow
Like a blue lady fingers, fairy flower
On the hills of County Clare.

Slipping through my fingers
Kill it or die
In a home baked pie of
Bumble Berry
Blue.

Smash it in the pages of that book, before it gets away, free forever
In the Nethers
Of a nook
Or cranny
Hanging on a hook
Unused long
In a Rosicrucian song.

I come to Narnia
Pregnant or not at all
Remember the Fairy Tale?
A cloaken robe of elvin kind
Hangs in the back of my wardrobe behind
All those things that Mother said were
Improper for a boy
Put it on, in the playground
Blue
Wear it new
On the back of a wild cuckatoo
perched in some river run down tree hidden.

Tails dusted through the leaves
Of Fall
As I danced
In oh some just a Dream
Theme in
feathers jest so cruel
In rouge
In Rainy rouge
Running down a white faced blouse in the river wood true.

Real
I wore it once in Spring.
Removed all the impossible things now
Nothing left,
Just Me
Mold on the holly hock branch
Under a morning cold recliner cider in frost.

I come to the Temple naked, this time
I’ve been here before.
Core musings.
My fingers grow without a fire
Blazing red roosters cones.
Raising a belly
Pregnant
toasting
In the blizzard
All hail
The steed snorts in the crinkly air
Afair and field and far
Blue tails trailing
In snotty wind
Awind and racing
Onward soldiers
a fiery hawthorn bier awaits
Before
The summer land dance and
I sing softly
waiting under blue covers and black bellies
And fir
Pregnant with you singing softly that soul lost or found or haunted here in Avondale.

-Tanya

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