Gold finches dwell
In her aurelian tinsel hair,
Nomad of enchanted wood,
Her glass slippers, adorned in glittering geodes,
Leave no footprints in virgin earth.
Her sugar voice simmers and erupts
from pulsing lungs,
Lifting their feathers up, up,
Swooping toward long toes of hemlock
That weave in and out of dirt
Beneath yellow chanterelle ballgowns.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.