Moulting Season

There is the twin
light of June sun and moon,
coaxing me out of
well-worn scorpion skin and
old stings, and

I am not sure, not knowing
the new, what crawls out
from under
(what is my nature?)
the steel, and the witchcraft,
the tale and the pincers carrying
princes, as long as my body,
heavy with old burdens
and filled with old venom
still too dangerous to touch, but

I do know
she was asked by a handsome waiter
today at breakfast (where
she went with herself) to stay classy; he
wrote it on her receipt.

The pleasure of every-day joy
of a well lived life. Nothing more and

nothing nothing nothing nothing
ever less.
ever again.

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1 Response to Moulting Season

  1. Pingback: A Witch Is Born | Kshyama's Attic

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