By: Ethan J. Murray
fairytale with sense of dread
it came with the imported machinery
it strangled the mist with thick red dust
it made window-washing impossible
it kept the children curled like pillbugs among the coal
it summoned the tides and let them fall stagnant
it was not enough to keep me from you
i found you inside the old redwood, bark fossilized up to your neck
a breath every three minutes
i opened my po cke/t kn/i//fe // ///// / // /
i took my hands to the overgrowth
i would leave, and return
with nectar, with stones of volcanic blue
a dusting of dragonflies
hovered to watch you reemerge
i don’t care how old and rusted the town; i don’t care the time i lose—
i will see you again,
bending your fingers,
the rest of your life biting
at the joints
take me or leave me,
i thank the universe
each night you are alive
what makes you good enough for fairytales
my friends want to know,
and i don’t know what to say, except
have they ever been the sea slashed by the rocks?
have they been a firefly chasing another?
have they been the clean house after the towels were folded?
have they been the pomegranate almost ready to be picked,
aware of the order of things but not the least bit regretful?
maybe i am throwing myself to the ice caps
when i could have a garden lush
with wind instruments and honey
there is majesty in waiting
beauty in blood, a pink sun
drunk against the skin
i am an endless field of dandelions
i am the wish that is never spent
don’t forget the times you’ve reached for me,
sleepless, beating against the cover of night
Ethan J. Murray is a queer, autistic poet loved into existence by 12 headmates. They want to help make the world kinder for every neurodivergent person. Their work is published in Occulum Journal, and you can find them on twitter @ethanandco.
