left groaning
what can be said of thischarcoal night
and the stars that erase it to morning?
(left) here
where I scarcely can
breathe
for the weight of this sky on my chest.
(left) here
in the
pulse of trees, in the gasp of dawn
here with
gills who wish they were lungs
with feet who wish they could fly
(left) here
knowing I am no creator
knowing
I am left to groan
posted by Erin @ 5:31 PM
1 Comments:
'with feet who wish they could fly' *fans self* brilliant erin, your poetry is priceless.
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