Drag feathers across the lawn.
Nail them to the walls.
Fill your sink with feathers
and wash dishes in them.

When the time comes tuck
each feather into its tiny crib.
Lie down with the feather you love.


Night, in her gloves
and gown, at the mirror
an hour before dawn,
letting down her long hair
(black, of course). Night, night,
her jewelled belt and glass
slippers of dew…

Come into my room,
quiet as a spider,
slip out of those sleeves,
lower the shade.

(kz1986) (previously appeared in Puerto del Sol)

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