THE WEAVE:

“Vesta!” Moonie implores,

“Pass this missive, to my

Sunny lover-boy.”

MOONIE's MISSIVE

Time is bent.
The Times we are

together most, I am
not reaching for you.

I am called into mySelves,
by other Ways, tickled

to drum up a dusty
spell, not wrought today,

responding to you perfectly,
before your words I've read.

Is that somehow enough
for you?  To know

the magick lives, but keep it
bayed?  You are

not creating me.
We are simply

tangled.