with gratitude to Eleanor Wilner for the title
Always the fish
with their tricky wishes.
Throw them back, throw them back!
And the gold ring with them!
Up here on the mountain
there's nothing to wish for —
so high, so clear,
the light so near.
Pale blue butterfly
on a sticky orange monkeyflower.
Two scrawny bees
plowing pollen.
No silver slipperies,
nothing you dreamed of
sliding through your fingers
like herring.
Only, in the ochre dust,
a round red seed.
But don't plant it!
You know what that leads to —
easy climb
fool's gold
oven door
bloody harp —
the necessity of an axe.
Reversing the Spell by Ruth Thompson | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
