Swan Hour

by Erin Jamieson

glass slippers

shatter at dusk

just like I

was warned

periwinkle gown

collecting celestial

dust from stars

that fall from

enchanted skies

their burning

edges etch

into my skin

not unlike

when she

held my hand

hours ago

            heat, heat I cannot

            describe—a cool

            lake under a full

            moon

I plunge deep

as my body

erupts in

white feathers