I painted a mural with my tongue 

and cried as every stroke 

left me insecure. 

Not of beauty, that’s for sure.

***

A rough ruined stage, my little face

hidden under silken drapes.

I loved it once,

***

do you?

***

The site bears the weight

of hissing colors

unchanged by new eyes,

I crossed two fingers and closed mine.

But wet paint tore

the sky

and streaks of me 

became the sacrifice.

Blood-mixed paint 

in crevices.

***

A slight gasp –

did I create a god

and left him

to scrub paint stains?

A dragonfly asked me to play

one day when I was

eight. I thought to win

the chase, would be akin

to burning at the stake.

I was unnatural 

in that nature

and could never stay. 

To be free was not my goal,

My wants held 

in a chalice, I could never drink,

only offer. 

Eyes flickered back 

to the shore that held 

that otherworld

as I quelled the internal rot

feeding flies.

The game – abandoned 

I,

forced to endure

the chatter of a bus

headed toward reality. 

…

The childhood spell I had known 

became wrapped in iridescent wings

I could almost see 

but never be.

I was instead a witch 

who worshipped willows

and turned beauty bitter.

My coven burned before it formed

and a wooden broom –

my wings. 

…

I saw a dragonfly at the park

It danced above a shallow pond 

glistening like a prism.

Time became the ripples 

at the water’s edge 

and I then stood,

like years before,

with the present

woven through a game

two dragonflies wished to play.