Fairy Poems seem to be one of my things

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She stole the boy, left mandrake in his place
twisted to likeness dead within a week,
out of its nature could not even shriek
leaving his mother ague lining face
with crying. But the carefree fairy queen
had her new page and would not let him cry
fed sweet meat jelly blackbirds in a pie
dressed him in silk of brown and gold and green.
Grew out of time each day a month, each week
almost a year. The gravestones wore away
of all his kin. His washed out eyes were gray
but not his hair. His dialect antique.
Bored queen drove him away with curse and lash
Daylight turned silk to leaves and boy to ash.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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