Folktales
       

We sleep on peas,
we can't sleep.
We prick our
fingers and sleep
for eons at a time,
our hair spooling
out around us.
The forest is
a blanket too
small to cover
our feet. Careful:
in this world,
someone could
magic away
your toes.

We're women,
whales, will-
o'-the-wisps.
Here, our names
are allegorical.
The ocean churns
in a crow's eye,
and its quarks fill
apricots with
gold. We were
raised by wolves,
we're razed
by bears, and
it's all music,
music, music,
these lives
translated into
words.

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Copyright © 2019 Brianna Noll All rights reserved
from Smartish Pace
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission