Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
what strange material

we could disassemble the black
cut the mantle to pieces

yet, everything looks like it is dying, keeps looking for

a mortar for cloth and beetle wings
iridescent powdered plumage

turquoise, for damaging skin

a mark
to remember better times, for worse

times past weaving weavers leaden tongues
these tongues

de-sexing the virtue in -

you look at me as a stranger
I, the mirror of you

there is a fire in the house
it is too much for saying

no one pays any mind to the muffling of small birds
Chelsea Chavez
Written by
Chelsea Chavez  Fairfield, CA
(Fairfield, CA)   
   katie and Andrew Name
Please log in to view and add comments on poems