fitty 9

I remember now how heading home should mean:
don’t forget the swords, the fairies and donations, love; kids still
need to be assured that myth is built
to make you feel like flight, just
write it down before it flits away
rhymes thus become a quilt for conscience
I thought I was I be I stop I
got it all before your
bricks of emotion, circumstance and sentiment got caught up
in their little glass jars, glinting in overcast light;
the only thing between them and the sky,
hood for suburbs, keeping all appearance under wraps