the exiles of crayola's breathing

whenever crayola exhaled about a million microscopic priestesses
were teleported from their anaerobic homeland onto a hand dryer
in the restroom of a sinclair station in maryland & left to fend for

themselves in a land w/out scale. besides, we're all nomads - she
would say - & the nomads of medieval europe considered reptiles
the manifestation of our lost hair inhabiting the earth - then she'd

take a breath & do that weird little dance w/her hands & get back
to her gardening & the greens, her eyes still just beyond the reach
of the rationalizations that shadow us once we've left this domain.

Jeffrey Little | Mudlark No. 15
Contents | crayola in her tropics waiting for rain