Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2015
desperate air
& every piece of body,
named on countless charts
in countless schoolroom closets
but only felt to me
in shimmers of springs
& soft running steps
on moss & oak leaves,
trembles & thrives in the space
between roots.
I feel it when there is wind
in the valley of the small of
the back of the adolescent cedar,
& unpolished beetles play me
twilight nocturnes in hopes
that I will break out of
silk fetters into the
dense of August to be
no one but myself.
Written by
Julia  New Jersey
(New Jersey)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems