Spice

my kindle fire did it to me again...reformatted my poem. So here it is again in proper form...

 Spice

 So I lay burdened
 With myriad alternate realities in which I make other choices,
 Dreams of shining salmon, corset strings just a pinch too tight,
 Fear fierce like Turkish coffee...
 Gold and trinkets for sale in a Marakkesh market,
 Brass weights, brass scale,
 And measuring up.
 Genie or gypsy, Genie or gypsy?
 As the knife thrown to the pegboard by my head says
 This is what you are.

"Free Wish"

An eyelash fell in my teacup,
     as I wearily rubbed my eyes,
My free wish sank in the blackness,
     another auspicious surprise.
I took in the bleak situation,
     I took in the eyelash tea, too...

Regardless of which sort of sorceress you are,
Some potions you cannot unbrew.


......written while on another interminable, maddening call with Comcast.