A cyclone of storks ripples above,
Whirling dervish, a mass blinking
White and white and black and white.
Then, teardrops pour down from above
Us, a
Shower of gifts to settle upon our right shoulders.
I open my mouth, flex the pink muscle of tongue,
**** the milk from the mother's ****
Begin to float above the ground —
Just a little.
Pimpled skin breaks harshly,
Cranberry juice pouring down my collarbones,
Feathers blooming along my back with the
Insistence of a petulant child. Growing
Into my form, filling out the frame of
Marabou born generations before me.
Up to the clouds, a fire beneath me,
I ascend in a flurry of plumage, my legs
Withered and spindly - I am no longer of the earth
Now - once, twice, thrice I beat my wings,
Settling on the edge of the world for a mere moment and
Gone.
My lungs gasp, I shudder out a last giggle before
Space
Swallows me whole.
I run my fingers down the cartilage ribs
Of the oseophagus, a xylophone of softbone spears.
Tumbling, somersaulting, skirt billowing around my ears,
Wingtips scoring a trail in the warm, wet walls.
A resounding splash echoes through the chamber as I
dive into the ocean. It feels limitless—
I feel limitless, water dripping off my oil-slick feathers,
Slithering lindwurms curling between my toes.
I sip primordial soup.
And so goes the story, my child, of the sun-kissed stork.
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 12:38 AM UTC
A cyclone of storks ripples above,
Whirling dervish, a mass blinking
White and white and black and white.
Then, teardrops pour down from above
Us, a
Shower of gifts to settle upon our right shoulders.
I open my mouth, flex the pink muscle of tongue,
**** the milk from the mother's ****
Begin to float above the ground —
Just a little.
Pimpled skin breaks harshly,
Cranberry juice pouring down my collarbones,
Feathers blooming along my back with the
Insistence of a petulant child. Growing
Into my form, filling out the frame of
Marabou born generations before me.
Up to the clouds, a fire beneath me,
I ascend in a flurry of plumage, my legs
Withered and spindly - I am no longer of the earth
Now - once, twice, thrice I beat my wings,
Settling on the edge of the world for a mere moment and
Gone.
My lungs gasp, I shudder out a last giggle before
Space
Swallows me whole.
I run my fingers down the cartilage ribs
Of the oseophagus, a xylophone of softbone spears.
Tumbling, somersaulting, skirt billowing around my ears,
Wingtips scoring a trail in the warm, wet walls.
A resounding splash echoes through the chamber as I
dive into the ocean. It feels limitless—
I feel limitless, water dripping off my oil-slick feathers,
Slithering lindwurms curling between my toes.
I sip primordial soup.
And so goes the story, my child, of the sun-kissed stork.
Request permission to use this poem