Fairy Tale

Born in winter it follows: pale

eyes, white thighs, welcoming

ice in your blueshadow heart

 

On this knife-shard we bloom

roses on the breast of the snow

 

The white stag founders and

in thin trees blacksilent

owls watch hunters verge-lost

 

Your secret cottager spins jewels

into grayrock, acres of gold

into straw

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