The grimoire's spell for flight begins
"Kill ten swallows..." But instead
deep in the wood, I lure twelve in,
weave and merge them, all alive--
and I'm the thirteenth thread!
We fuse into a swallow-winged
black-eyed bird-cloak,
iridescent violet-green.
We fly the wood together to
a glade: court of the Queen.
Some human fool abducts her! I
battle him "Prince Valiant" style--
Swords clash and bell until
The villain hoofs it for the sloop.
A whirl of wings. I trail!
That night as we doze in camp, a thief
unscrews our Volkswagen's wheels
and axles--every bolt! Rebuild
the car at dawn; we find he tore
it all for a single part--
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a small brass screw-cap, one of four.
"Why'd you do it?" He answers, sad:
"For my seven hundred daughters."
Whoa. That must be hard. I dart
up to the ice plateau
and snowshoe-skate (surreal!) across.
Whoops! The Enemy's after us! So
we dive in a tropic sea, and pass
(delta-winged) for a manta ray,
fooling the Enemy sonar and the cynic sharks.
We meet the Princess of the Reef,
and Judy, and Lydia. As I wake,
I wonder who they were.
But then, who was I? One
deeply distractable fool!
But I know what I loved: becoming bird.
Sweet fusion! How we feathersoared.
I'll heed that warning to reject
the Old Authoritative Text:
Deep magic isn't cruel.
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