Ruby Fly

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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

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