Before Flight

Can you promise
that if our love were proverbial feathers
weighed on a gently tipping balance
mine would not sink?
You are a bird poised just before flight, claws crooked
sunk skin deep in me but molting, eyes fixed on the brink
and I—
I want to swallow the clouds, bittersweet and dusky ashen,
wrench myself skyward (but you won’t catch me),
taste wafting gales stinging between my teeth
as I dive (and fall)
and I—
I might be jealous of the wind.

© wordandink 2018


Artwork by strykmig
Find more of my writing at Tilt Shift Poetry

birds by strykmig

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.