Her thread legs test this hold
of woven fingers.
The only discernible weight
is that of her confusion:
tremulous wings try to lift
the weight of her want
to escape.
I unravel my hands - and she flies
over the hedge,
her leopard colours brighten
the meadows beyond. See,
how easily she claims her release.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
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4 comments:
A very graphic poem, Carol. It's blustery here today, but I hope I can feel spring unravelling in the wind! I'm still waiting for my first 2010 butterfly...
oh that's lovely, I'm waiting for butterflies today, they won't choose today I'd guess...
I appreciate the moment of release; I could feeeel it! and see it!
Thank you.
I reckon one with wings would have a heightened escapist tendency. Confusion would serve as the wind beneath such a one's wings.
I like the line break after the sixth line, resulting to:
the weight of her want
to escape
Interesting, and with impact. Cheers.
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