Things May Appear Golden-Paired from a Distance

 
For weeks, our Heroine is visited by dreams of ravens. 
She sits sequin-slippered, the congress circled around her. 
 
The ground is a broad, tan expanse. 
Spare no expense, even roses 
Need ladders to scale the heavens. 
 
Awake, our Heroine flies coach as the sun sets, 
Three tones ringing down her spine. 
 
Asleep, pair after pair fly in opposite directions 
And return with shiny shiny things, bleached bones, 
A dead canary. 
 
She sits glad-sashed and unsequined on the Freezing Lake. 
The pitch, the turn, the ever after. 
She’s seeing spots. 
 
Awake, the old pattern is a tractor beam? 
Professor, can it be sutured? 
 
Move too fast and you’ll always be lonely, he warns. 
Photosynthesis is a seductive something. 
Don’t confuse energy with food. 
And the Great Cat. 
 
Asleep, the circle or ravens now a circle 
Of cast-off feathers and whispered caws: 
 
Balm and salt. Balm and salt. 
First found. Trapped child. Food shroud. 
Trapped kitten. Last found. 
Balm and salt. Balm and salt. 
 
My footing holds strong. But what for? 
 
A change in air pressure squelching in her ears. 
 
Enter the Raven-Headed Interloper, 
That’s the dangerous thing about a pendulum. 
 
 
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...still working on the Chastity piece (which just keeps changing on me and won't hold still) and the Bear piece, too, but apparently the Interloper is a cutter (as in "cutting line" not "high school goth archetype").