The Fae

The decrepit fountain catches leaves
Orange and red and yellow drifting
in shallow murk
Hasn’t been flowing for years
Mildew lazes up its body
and the wind ripples between leaf rafts
swirling in the muck
little bubbles and waves

Once, this place rang with song
The young were awake in the square
eyes sparking with possibility
and hormones and derring-do
ready for hurly-burly and
such-and-such

and now the bilge of neglect
pools in a concrete tub
The stars are blurry and humbled
When you watch them from this
disinhereted scene

The fae will draw you in
They will kiss your forehead
They will touch your shoulders and your hair
They will hide a piece of chocolate in your dreams
and when you eat it,
it will become a kiss
But you must never accept a gift from the fae

It will turn into endless staircases
wherein you climb up and down, and never make any progress
It will turn into a whisper inside your apartment
coming from walls and windows and ceiling fans
It will itch inside of your skull,
and you can only scratch it by bashing your face into your desk
It will be a black spot in the center of your sight
It will be a guitar note that reminds you of a fight you had with your father
It waits in basements and inside of your car
No matter how you twist and contort
It’s there
Right dead center

The fountain smells dead, stagnant water
Orange and red and yellow
leaves cling to each other

you must never accept a gift from the fae

Because whatever is inside of that fountain
We’re going to bust it open
and drill down into it
and if smoke and fire and God Himself
comes hissing and pissing and screaming out of that hole
We’re gonna know what’s in there