she goes freeing herself
and stops to break her fall
suddenly to gather herself
and begin again with such brazenness
was it the moon
and not the far-flung bird of song?
was it the brigade of shadows
and not the heady kisses of night?
she keels over like a vast wave
stretching her arms into the sky
once again, permitting herself to be seen
not by the moon,
not by the hale of such night that struggles not to
tipple over her hair that demands a different hue
of silence
but by herself in the mirror
the metamorphosis,
true to the claim of the world
except she is not to flutter away,
just yet –
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
she goes freeing herself
and stops to break her fall
suddenly to gather herself
and begin again with such brazenness
was it the moon
and not the far-flung bird of song?
was it the brigade of shadows
and not the heady kisses of night?
she keels over like a vast wave
stretching her arms into the sky
once again, permitting herself to be seen
not by the moon,
not by the hale of such night that struggles not to
tipple over her hair that demands a different hue
of silence
but by herself in the mirror
the metamorphosis,
true to the claim of the world
except she is not to flutter away,
just yet –
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