The Fairy with Mile-Deep Eyes

By Michael Fantina

Translucent fairy wings, red veined,
Now ply the roses at high noon.
Their pretty heads are golden-maned,
Their bodies paler than the moon.

The captain of this tiny band,
She soars toward me like some frail leaf.
She sits upon my outstretched hand,
And smiles, this nectar-loving thief.

Her tiny sylph-like form, a child,
Her scarlet lips feigning kisses,
Her blue and mile-deep eyes are wild,
Wild like some mile-deep abyss is.

She sits, bolt upright, in my grasp,
Folds under her her pretty legs.
Such loveliness I'd die to clasp,
Like wine I'd drink her to the dregs.

She folds her arms upon small breasts,
Screws up her face to stare at me,
Then cocks her head so that it rests,
Upon her shoulder teasingly.

Like some strange goddess she can plumb,
My inner depths and read my ways,
This tiny thing beside my thumb,
Who with the bee and June bug plays.

She closes long-lashed lids and sighs,
As though we've spoken all the day,
Breathing deeply, opening eyes,
She rises up and flies away.