Kenna McKinnon Author: house

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Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Grab this poem this winter's evening it's a gift

This place—silver, cold,

frightened all the elves away,

they like to play.

My sister's tall and thin

like winter wind

There was a place for her but not within

The suburbs but the furs

Here in Glenora.

Wait for a new year,

We can tell her

By the faery lights across her falling

on her icy face like stars and then

they warm her neglected soul like

concrete pierced by years of wear.

He is strong and won her and

the safe white house.

So happy.

She likes to play

but I will give my sister

ginger tea and cookies;

Lewis Carroll and a poem

As though I, too, were wealthy,

somehow a partner in a faery firm

of miscreants.