Rose Flint
Sleight of hand
The variable of games:
two kingdom keys.
the dark track of your footsteps
dissolving
in snow.
Air and darkness, flame.
Alone, the moon in the mirror
grew owl-full and heavy.
flew to the ceiling’s dead light and stayed;
sleep shuttering her eyelids.
You entered perspectives
glinted and shifted by shadow, found
I was no homing dove to the hand.
Not here in these white thighs
nor the soft ruby mouth of a flower,
close smooth
to your roughness.
I am flying alone down a dark lane
calling: Find me, find me
follow my scent of flowers
through the night
and warm me
for winter is frosting the feathers
that fly in the cloak of my hair
and it is cold here, cold.
Page(s) 116
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