Fear, O Shakespeare
A thousand paper butterflies shed –
skin, hair locked onto shoulders bare
in cabins cornered you see, They see
darkest of dreams, brightest of nightmares, They
tromp and stumble like unordered stringencies –
nameless, faceless wings and things
playing games on damask and toile, toiling with untethered
tassels and troughs, wretched bobbins and thimbles
misplaced and mislead
molasses mouse traps and maidens drowned –
and ants feast on dead ends of Her
and blood on sodden handkerchiefs
William, your harpy’s here
and heaven is far away
Arielle Tipa is a writer based in New York who takes a particular liking to poetry and tales of the fantastic. Her work has appeared in Dodging The Rain and Venus Magazine, and is forthcoming in Corvus Review and FIVE:2:ONE Magazine.