Death of a Fairy
Mama was once a fairy,
Or so I like to think,
With a soft spoken voice,
And alert eyes,
And a gentle, gentle touch,
But now Mama uses fairy memory potions,
And fairy powder,
And fairy pills,
And fairy needles,
To forget,
Mama likes to forget,
The dishes, piling up,
Her job, the mailbox flooded,
Her family, the phone ringing off the hook,
The child, standing by the door,
The bedsheets,
Half off the side,
Dying,
Desperate on the ground,
Like the fairy lying on the top,
I watch,
With a pounding heart,
In my tender little chest,
Covered by a large teddy bear,
Who loves me more than Mama does,
I whisper her name,
Then a little louder,
Before daring to tiptoe,
To her unmoving form,
And sit beside the bed,
Her eyes are open,
But closed to the outside,
Her breath,
Smells not like a fairy’s,
But like a dragon’s,
She is quiet,
As she stares at me,
Dark hair falling,
Over her face like cobwebs,
The knots in her hair are spiders,
But I’m not afraid of spiders,
So I crawl onto the creaking bed,
And I brush her hair with my fingers,
The real brush is broken,
From the last time I tried,
After a moment,
She reaches over,
And grabs me,
Unexpectedly hugging me,
Close to her frail heart,
I can hear Mama,
I can feel her,
Sobbing,
A broken fairy,
With no wings to lift her to happiness,