a journal of fantastical poetry

Only So Many Feathers

by Selena Bulfinch

I dreamt of falling
and there were pieces 
scattered everywhere
I built my nest.

Shining objects
dripped from my magpie mouth,
but you can’t glue back
each disparate feather or thought

because you were right 
when you said
“the past is full of anvils”
and I can’t wear my crown anymore.

I miss the devils, 
who never made me feel ugly beside them
kindly distracting with glass
and with razors

once upon a time.
Once upon a time,
I read the ashes of lost books,
stirred our ghosts—

and sang them to
the mansion of souls,
or the dark river,
or the kingdom under the hill.

The embers are dead now,
the feathers gone,
and tears burned my throat all night
for people I cannot remember.

August 27th, 2015

web design © mitchell hart