Poetry by Chas Holden ∫ Art by Jonathon Prestidge
![butterfly](http://www.section8magazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/butterfly.jpg)
You had a fair warning: panting and
footpads from around the blind bend.
Then
Beauty runs right at you—
dressed in form-fitting spandex,
naked as a stranger will ever willingly
be. It’s all you can do
to look down
and smile
dumbly
at your feet.
![moneycharmer](http://www.section8magazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/moneycharmer-852x1024.jpg)
Dedication for an Improvised Playground
On the bleached ribs of wrecked ships
let children play. Let them
rouge their cheeks with rust.
No better way to train
for a life spent
climbing & sliding the ruins left
by the Selfish and Soon-Dead.
On the Occasion of Wishing I were Somewhere Else
stiller when watching
trees writhe outside.
Likewise, I never notice our silence
till laughter drifts in the window.
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