She was only five at the time, so it seemed natural. Her feet were like turrets on old english castles.
But they had five toes each, that she knew
ruby touched the ball of her foot and squealed. It was ticklish.
the end of her toenail glistened int he sunlight
it was a bright reflection
but she couldn’t quite see her face in it.
Likewise, her toenail couldn’t see her.
The magpies on the street were all a hollder
the murder of crows darted through the unblemished sun scrapings
that were inevitably burnt into a sea gray sky.
the butterfly nest is now filled to the brim with wings
and ruby is a child again
feeling soft orange feathers flutter on her cheek.
She squints, and sees a shard of glass in the grass
she can’t see her face in it,
and the glass can’t see her.
She smiles, because life seems so funny.
She puts the shard of glass on her sill
and her mother doesn’t bother to spot
it’s invisible light shows.
her brother is a magpie
her mother is a crow
and she, a butterfly.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry