You simply do not exist, they assert with buttoned-up stares,
Though I’ve detected salty scents on the curled tongues of butterflies,
And feet-shapes where the grass and clover straighten their necks.
Get your head out of the mist, they keep telling me,
There are no such beasts in the world.
But I think I saw you once, at the corner of my eye.
Yes, I truly think I did! And you were big and fleshy and sad,
Just like the drawings in my secret book of folklore and myth:
Those spider silk pages always turning beneath the moonlight.
First published in the April 2012 issue of Mythic Delirium.