Recipe

Good blood burns like smoke and bone,

The current tugs away my home.

My flutter-feet desire the wind

My gypsy gaze pools distastefully

I do not want any of this future

Or

history

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the return

she came home sun-tanned and smiling from her eyes,
red-rimmed with exhaustion
but sparking a new fire-light

she came home clever and leaner
startled by her own steel and her own weakness

startled by how much she missed him

she came home sewn-up with stars in her stitches
and unlit moons that offered new riches

she came home wanting, jaunty and restless
entirely too intent on courage to waste any time among the tame.

she came back, and he was at home with the taste of her name.