Barubelo

it was the shattered weaver
and the princess toe
bawling in a neighborhood
not long ago
spinning ancient native
secrets twisting trust
of nightly security
for the ritualistic
classic bed-time manner
bumping ‘round grids
blasting a confusing thump
makes me grateful
for the slip-on love
of zebra special coat
But isn’t it time
to ask the author why
shojo mistresses unite
to cast a salty spell
over liquid breaches.
Twice! More so than that
in a matter of hours
mere minutes of nothingness
gave all my compassion
in a celebrated display
of my literate passions
not just for the art,
though a thought
can tempt the itch,
but for the realness
of fictional realities
and illusionary personas
Yet I have suffered
grieved, love and anticipated
for this moment
sequence upon layers
what’s another sixty days
going upward, even?
worth the wait, boys
all sweet girls know
when the good stuff
is worth the wait

by Kate Green