Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
falls through the open window

the wind funnels through

a wing cripples

pinch him between my fingers

let him blow back along the interstate

was he meant to die on my lap?

or did this car interior interrupt natural causes

my head is a cage

my mind is locked away

when will my soul blow through a window

to a welcoming lap.
B Young
Written by
B Young  Philly endlesswanderjahr
(Philly endlesswanderjahr)   
393
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems