Out of Body

Fairies looking through a gothic arch John Anster Fitzgerald


I did not want your house,
To move inward, shuttered,
Peaked, tears guttered out.

I made the most, escape eloping,
Of fine realms, natural and noble,
When you slept or burned inside out.

I wish we’d been the forest, sheltering
The faery enchanted, four o’clock scented,
The blue and green peacock feathers far out.


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