There is a kind of salt-lipped purity when drowning where no one can ever see, plunged in the dark depths of obscurity, lost among the fathoms—you can be free. Others flail from up top, astride air-side, at the surface, searching for the lifeboats, hoping for dolphins, or sharks, any ride— desperate enough for flotsam that floats. But 15 minutes is all drowning takes to die unseen and unsung down below, whereas 15 minutes within the wakes is the most that showboats may ever know.
There is much love to be had
and so much joy to enjoin,
far too much to be so sad
as if all a fairy coin,
and even so, covet leaf
in a purse of gilt Autumn
rather than indulge the grief
of a lordly, ill-got sum.
Some fear the poor peasant’s lot
and there’s much to fear in such
for what comforts might be bought
or fare found at such a touch,
but fairy leaf from the wood
can still make a bitter brew,
which when hot still tastes as good
if imbibed with wisdom’s dew,
for it warms and heals the soul
even when a trick is played,
drank inside when cold winds blow
with lemongrass from the glade,
whereas a brow on the throne
breaks beneath the coffers’ weight,
castles chilling to the bone
and troubles beyond the gate.
True his throat knows better food
and grows fatter, (never thin),
but it is his neck that’s hewed
if deposed by his cousin.
So when life gives you such wealth
from the Fae, those puckish thieves,
thank the errant, lying elf
and boil water for the sieves—
after all, you could brew tea
which might earn sums most handsome
from folks feeling quite chilly,
thus earning a king’s ransom.
More useless than coins
placed upon eyes of a corpse,
his posthumous fame.
What flower did not wither, too,
when under the magnifying glass,
the focused, scrutinizing rays
burning petals, stems, and the grass
surrounding it, hitherto
shriveling in that relentless gaze?
Nor can little army men
endure such a spotlight for long,
melting down as plastic sludge
despite however well-made and strong
while the lens focuses when
we critical children glare and judge.
And even an armored ant pawn
doing as its hivemind intends
cannot withstand that laser ray
while we, jaded, follow trends,
never reflecting on
how we may find ourselves burnt someday.