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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Cat Westley


 

 

The backyard of the Alabama house,
where I was both monster and mermaid as I trapeze walked
the cascading pond, to search for fairy houses and toads,
strawberry juice on the outline of lips, where the
sweat resided, always hopeful that I could dig a hole so deep
that I would find my way to China, find some
other world; I just a child, but more,
more than blossoming but rather,
infinite, capable to see the undercurrent of a fleetwood
fantasy.