TERRI WITEK

Conte Bleu (The Blue Fairy Book)

Start, as always, with pebbles in moonlight,
           with an aproned woman urging you away
into woods with a fluster of language like "ogre"
           and "treasure." Slick her words with your spit

and curve them behind the little white bones
           of your eye sockets then, stone by stone,
track a sequence of light that takes a mind to meander,
           resembles old bread (but it would break

your throat) or dropped pearls (all untradeable).
           Ease these from drifts of blue forest floor
and into your pockets. When, in the distance,
           a woman's clear yodel of grief claims this is no way

to return, and the blues near at hand skip
           on their own into black, swing your head,
filled with words, into that darkness.
           When you are well and truly lost, let the story begin.