Folklore

Sooooooooo I'm not entirely satisfied with this one. I feel like I somehow need to conclude it better. Generally concerned about some of the imagery, as usual. It feels...uneven. And I sort of like the format, but I also don't. Comments appreciated!

PS. Thoughts on a title? I hate this one >_<

"Tall Tales"

I find myself taking posthumous advice
from Anansi.
        I swallow him regularly as I sleep
        and morning birds snap him up in their beaks
        and carry on singing.
His careless webs span
the inhale and exhale of chasms.

I regularly hang my head
upside-down beneath bridges.
        Only the ducks bellow at me
        and demand nothing more than
bits of bread.
 
I try to pile stones along roadways
but the walls are never tall enough
for Mercury to hide behind;
        children or sprites follow behind me,
        skipping the wall-stones across ponds.
Mercury whispers from all the wrong places,
        suction-cupped to the kitchen window
        and fleeing up and down the glass,
a silver bead that boils and burns my veins.

I don't set even a toe
inside rings of mushrooms
        and I wield "I wish" with care,
        but there are no more elves or goblins
        hiding under my bed
or at the bottom of the well in the garden.

I have never seen nightmares tangled in dream catchers,
but still I am careful with plants like mistletoe
that have been the death of gods.