Selkie Shift

Dress of Paper by Annette Marie Smith
I wore a dress made of paper
It rustled when I walked. You were the wind
pulling at it, creeping with fingers of cold
trying to get under my skin.
I came dressed in mud, painted obscure as night.
You were the chain that pulled on the light.
I wore birdsong
and dawn was a crown in my hair.
You came with a lawnmower and blade-spread
feathers everywhere.
I took off my skin and wore spirit to escape you
but you stole my skin like I was a selkie
making me feel I could never go home
would always be prisoned with you.
— Why I Left When I Could by Annette Marie Smith


Image by Rives Alexis of DeviantArt

May your wolves walk on the path with you
where you can see them.
May they swirl with mane of mist with leaves
caught twined therein.
May you hear that their wildness calls
to you
that their teeth portend tools
as well as menace
that their howls are not just hunting jargon
but sonnets to the moon. — Annette Marie Smith​