BY ELLEN HUANG

Lying Upon My Wings

They take a while to attach. I unfold

the wings out of the packaged chrysalis &

I tie the black string about my neck.

It covers me, in lightness and blue,

the weightless swish of new wings.

In this hollow, I dress for myself;

I let in the sun for the precious gift of time,

dance in the underground at midnight,

write cross-legged in the candlelit corner,

nest myself in the hunger for stories.

flickering ~ fleeting ~ necessary.

Bless this space on rainy days

when grey and softened edges are beautiful,

when the mist of not-knowing is soothing.

cloaked in a piece of the sky, I am enough.

I lie upon my wings and breathe story,

held together by lamp-lighting pursuits, by

the simple imagination of flight.

Ellen Huang (she/her) is an aroace lover of fantasy and writer of fairy tales. She reads for Whale Road Review and is published/forthcoming in The Madrigal, Moss Puppy Magazine, Gingerbread House, Honey Literary, celestite poetry, Love Letters to Poe, Lanke Review, K’in, Serendipity Lit, Enchanted Conversation, and more. She is currently working on a chapbook of fairy tales, a collection of diverse fantasy, and an anthology of asexual horror/supernatural stories. Follow @nocturnalxlight on Twitter or worrydollsandfloatinglights.wordpress.com.