Home > A Field of Poetic VOICES > Fey by Jodine Derena Butler

Fey by Jodine Derena Butler

An emotional midget lives inside my fettered mind.
The sprite kind, green as the Irish
young, like Danu’s children dancing,
invisible to most save Fey.  She is gullible,
easy prey for those with nothing better to do –
they say opposites attract: I am like rat bait.

She is not quite right in the head my sprite
but don’t get me wrong,
she might have a little hunch in her brain stem,
and walk around muttering under her breath,
but she is conjuring up Narcissus
in an attempt to fill up the holes in her white tunic.

How she came to be this way is a long story,
suffice to say that public humiliation is akin to Oedipus Complex
with a tiny bit of Penis Envy on the side;
there is nothing quite like having an orgasm at someone else’s expense.
If you are a man, well I guess you just grew a little taller,
women, maybe just a little bit smarter.

My sprite has been known to feign a smile.
Rather than cower in the corner, she has worn patches.
I heard this one woman say she would never
have plastic surgery on her face, in male company of course,
then make an appointment to have her breasts enlarged
and the bags under her eyes lifted.

I wear my heart on my sleeve most days melancholy.
She plays while listening to The Pied Piper
watching hoards of people leave single file.
Emotionally speaking, she is not known to accurately sift thoughts;
binge eating her way into the Guinness Book of World Records,
one defiant leap of blind faith at a time.

My wee lass likes to be alone, but craves
the company of others so she doesn’t have to hide.
Once upon a time there was no such thing as social isolation,
the preferred title was Witch rather than loony toon.
She thinks too much, trying in vain failing miserably in the eyes;
second sight may as well be as viable as the second coming.

In my mind, my confused emotional midget state of a mind,
I am wondering where she has been and where I am going.
Most days I re-live the past with distorted accuracy
and stare into the wide blue yonder sitting on my desktop.
She looks out on to a Google landscape, straining
I can’t see the wood for the spam.

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

  1. drwasy
    July 7, 2010 at 10:23 pm

    Dense poem rich in images. Printing out to savor on paper. Love the title — fey is one of my favorite words. Peace…

  2. July 7, 2010 at 10:58 pm

    Cheers! A lot of hidden metaphors emerged from this poem. I was not aware of their presence till much later… my Fey is working wonders through my writing here, if I do say so myself. jx

  3. Walter
    July 19, 2010 at 12:47 am

    Feys work in mysterious ways – its what makes them fey, just like this piece. Good job of voicing the inner fey!

    • July 19, 2010 at 12:51 am

      Thank you Walter. They do indeed. I just did a quick two word edit…I noticed I had forgotten to change it on this post. Glad you enjoyed it. She is one of my favourites. Jx

  4. July 20, 2010 at 10:57 pm

    Rich in tone, texture, voice, Jodine! The voices in your head amaze me… You add such color to these pages!

    • July 20, 2010 at 11:00 pm

      Thank you Michelle! What a compliment. I think we are all like minded and this is what makes this space so wonderful! See you on Thursday night! Will the Literatti be there? Miriam? Jx

  5. August 7, 2010 at 3:56 pm

    Longing meets reality, and even fairies are challenged. Intriguing piece.

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