I like to imagine
the carver’s desecration halted
mid-letter —
E C \
(was it to be a ‘V’ or a ‘W’?)
by the Fairy Queen herself
outrage propelling her through
the veil to our
dense air.
Swift fury
upending the impudent one
over the mound-ring
to the dank
cow-pied fields
below
carving her own mark
upon one so thoughtless
as this.