Roar amidst the clatter
of beaded manes.
Claw the bark and tatter
long words, writ upon
these vellum pages
and add a name.
A wrought iron-rage,
the tacking nails,
commands the Fey
to rage and rail
…this was no game.
In somber multiplicity,
we knew our hero well
by his gleaming blade,
by the lion’s claw,
and by the tricky ways
one wicked-wry smile
could, though glancing,
first, fell us all.
©️ CG Tenpenny, 2023.
For CB. Hail the goer.
