Farm to Page
We’ve invented fair folk again,
Pale echoes of ourselves with
Surplus rules and a penchant for taking
What’s not been freely given. I lack
A true name, I’m learning. One must
Specify, precisely, the essence one means
Or the spell fizzles. Illegible smoke.
This means you and I, likely,
Are not the fairy tale heroes
Whose names can be written, can be
Captured, can be put on
Like a costume.
I am not a big enough lens
To be loaded on the northbound tractor,
Just a single stray bug wing
Watching one grain of salt.