Time thieves, we
borrow eyelashes from
Italian cheeks,
pickpocket purses for coins
to buy wine, seek
cream candles flickering
in cerulean evening, seek
good meat, gather forest
wolf-whistles at breezes,
murder dogs and
let them live.

Wear as earrings the toes
of a blue-footed booby,
weave from the hairs
of moths a rug. Weld
our home from lightning glass
and pie tins nicked
from Parisian alleyways
licked for luck by cats.

Whisper to the volcano
to howl to the rain-kissed
knees of thunder gods;

steal hairs off the heads of queens.
Make scotch from
toe sweat of all the great
Scots and sell it to the tourists for cheap.

See beyond death to dancing
and flappers immortal as rhythm.

Traveler's log of wishes and regrets

by Emily Duncan