Lost boys take finding; take watching;
take hauling their weight from the snickering surf
when the pixie dust runs out too soon.
I built this place one tree-house plank at a time.
The vines you bat aside, the sword-storm of pirates
and flight through stars: that’s all by design,
love. That’s the cleverness of me.
I fell out of my crib with nothing.
Now the mermaids and tigers are mine-
And you say I never grew up?
|Ada Hoffmann’s poetry has appeared in Strange Horizons, Goblin Fruit, and Mythic Delirium. You can find her online at www.ada-hoffmann.com or on Twitter at @xasymptote.|