The Fairies

June 20, 2017
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Hum of a fairy’s wing; stretched out like a butterfly breath; sheathed in colours violet and blue; moved into focus, in a whisper: a stretch of a feathered fingerprint; dancing in the air; it raises its webbed leg: and glitters fall in a silver net, that; tactile: entwine themselves in the sinews and bones: the flesh not solid but dust. A white glow emits from the darkness: that lights up the show, that arises from the black: the invisible chalkboard of performance and song: the pointed leg; flying into ash, as it twirls and perfects, in a toadstool of actors, who make dust out of the night air: who make rain from the drops of pain.            

Huddled together: gold enchanting their waxen: strands of hair, they meet in a midnight of fingers: of drawn circles: of notes rising: as a piano.

Twist of a violin’s arm: music is made, bang of an instrument lid: the dancing: and the fairies, begin to fade.

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