She is a poem, but not the ones / that flutter across the wind and settle like feathers atop skin. / she is claws that puncture flesh, / pry open ribs, squeeze hearts / past the point of bursting. she is mouth the devours words- / tears their syllables apart until silence shreds the air. / she is blood on water, / on silk, on lips, legs, teeth, / and tongue. / she is mango dripping / from the chin, sticking / to fingers. / she is lightning splitting tree trunks. she is rock breaking bone. / she is a poem, / but not the ones that flutter / across the wind and settle / like feathers atop skin.
YOU ARE READING
To Be Determined
PoetryBook 4 of seemingly endless poetry (or should I say possibilities?) Some poems are real life, some are not. Think before you assume.
