The Thumbelina Poems by Merie Kirby
Poetry
Illustrated by Anna Dielschneider
44 pages
7" x 7" single signature chapbook with hand sewn binding
Published April 2016
from The Thumbelina Poems
[Waking in the walnut shell she, too, thought it was a joke]
Waking in the walnut shell, she, too, thought it was a joke,
to be so small for the sake of a fairy’s cleverness
and a foolish woman’s wild desire.
Maybe the old woman did love her.
When she spoke, it was like a storm came up
over Thumbelina, thunder cracking affectionately
overhead, the message distorted by size and distance.
When she was knocked from the windowsill,
taken away from the cottage,
she knew it didn’t have to be the end,
if she were willing to write the rest.
Poetry
Illustrated by Anna Dielschneider
44 pages
7" x 7" single signature chapbook with hand sewn binding
Published April 2016
from The Thumbelina Poems
[Waking in the walnut shell she, too, thought it was a joke]
Waking in the walnut shell, she, too, thought it was a joke,
to be so small for the sake of a fairy’s cleverness
and a foolish woman’s wild desire.
Maybe the old woman did love her.
When she spoke, it was like a storm came up
over Thumbelina, thunder cracking affectionately
overhead, the message distorted by size and distance.
When she was knocked from the windowsill,
taken away from the cottage,
she knew it didn’t have to be the end,
if she were willing to write the rest.
Poetry
Illustrated by Anna Dielschneider
44 pages
7" x 7" single signature chapbook with hand sewn binding
Published April 2016
from The Thumbelina Poems
[Waking in the walnut shell she, too, thought it was a joke]
Waking in the walnut shell, she, too, thought it was a joke,
to be so small for the sake of a fairy’s cleverness
and a foolish woman’s wild desire.
Maybe the old woman did love her.
When she spoke, it was like a storm came up
over Thumbelina, thunder cracking affectionately
overhead, the message distorted by size and distance.
When she was knocked from the windowsill,
taken away from the cottage,
she knew it didn’t have to be the end,
if she were willing to write the rest.