Artemis Poems (IV)
Your childish lips
Close around
Perfect syllables
Forming words
I didn't know you owned.
Your pallor
As your face, close to death
So delicate, dreams forth
Like a vessel
The archetypes, the fairies
Monsters, from whom you will be
Wrenched safe;
You are perfect china,
Red and white,
With symmetrical precision
Holding, vulnerable,
All the wild magic
Under the calm of your sleeping eyelids.