tiny feet

first, stop the car 
in time to procure a butterfly
from its wobble on 
rough black tar

let it walk onto your fingers
breathless as consequence
wings felted with dust
biro-ink black 

and red and later, 
remember its tiny feet
while a tea cake cooks
warm as cello song

it's then you’ll realise 
that you've been touched
by the old gods at 

last and in air steeped with 
whispers the rain will flutter down
and your heart too
like a chick in your jacket

because you know
that memory slips away
swept into the infinite
recycling of dust




Written for NAPOWRIMO Day #19: “Today’s challenge is to write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as “Look,” as plaintive as “Come back,” or as silly as “Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.” Whatever command you choose, I hope you have fun ordering your readers around.”

8 thoughts on “tiny feet

  1. Beautiful Worms, love these lines right here: ”
    last and in air steeped with whispers the rain will flutter down…” 👏👏😁😁

    Like

  2. This is a superb stream of consciousness piece, whether intended or not. And I really love “a tea cake cooks warm as cello song” – mostly because I adore the sound of a long drawn note on its strings. Sounds like a muscle relaxing.

    Liked by 1 person

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