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first published in We Build Pagodas

the softest feather

Surrealist_2by Abbie Foxton24 Apr 2014

…Inside beams, spiders fall from ceilings.

a gate opens,
we look through ivy,
perfectly placed pretty things,
put back in drawers,
hid behind curtains nowhere realism.

The world he inhabits
is the world we all need to see,
open mouthed into a mirror
staring back at me.

Summer’s ghost
the softest feather
trapped in wet silk,
bows in a blue dream.

We cracked dragon’s eggs,
laughed into the depths of our cups,
shared a drink
from a busted hose,
hot plastic burned our lips
as we sipped,
dancing horizontal on thick cooch
bitten by owners of the grass.

Moonlit disturbia,
bats umbrella
the figs and pines,
your eye’s reflect the craters
I swallowed your name
one letter at a time.

See the milky way?
I am and I am in it,
caught up,
dwarfed by it all,
inhaling Magellenic cloud dust,
me and you, eyes naked.

Abbie Foxton (@thehungryfox)