I’m afraid to open the can,
unloose the magic, or not—

what if it contains possum teeth
and snail shells, rose petals

crumbled to bits, some
unpretty pebbles and a dried-

up pen? I want swirly light,
a waft of lavender-verbena

and glitter (because, as my
vanished-into-mystery BFF

used to say, a girl can never
have too much glitter) and

some unnameable alchemy
that floats like fairy dust

and pulses words through
my fingers so they land with

the gentlest plop on the page—
here and here and, oh, there—

not things I’ve knowingly
conjured but radiance that

seems to have divinely
appeared, the new bits

glistening joyfully on the page.
I’ll happily crack open

the can of all-purpose
inspiration any day and

share it with you, too,
brimming with glitter

to hearten us all.