He straddles all with supine grace –
this fairy lying on a thread –
nonchalant – upending space –
as lightly as if spreading bread
with jalapeno peppers:
“OW!” he hears beyond the scrim
of his anointed fairy slippers –
unconcerned which her or him
he’s just exasperated.
Soon it will be me or you
he’ll toxify – leave macerated
in his fine Slew of Askew.
this fairy lying on a thread –
nonchalant – upending space –
as lightly as if spreading bread
with jalapeno peppers:
“OW!” he hears beyond the scrim
of his anointed fairy slippers –
unconcerned which her or him
he’s just exasperated.
Soon it will be me or you
he’ll toxify – leave macerated
in his fine Slew of Askew.
.
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