Damp Feathers

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem exploring the inner self

Submitted: October 20, 2011

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Submitted: October 20, 2011

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Damp Feathers

You cling to my arms and the duvet draws me in,
the tangible rush of cotton hushing my skin,
bogging me down till I am weightless,
a feather in the midst of your fingers.
They flock my arms and limbs,
the downy tissue smothering my body till I cocoon,
incubate and stink of sweat,
that humid mist surrounding me like spittle as I melt,
waiting to harden like wax and preen.
My spine is forked, the cartilage cracked
with plumage as it swells beneath the skin
and this labyrinth, this hidden maze
of human games reverts me, till I am that bird,
that subtle wren which beats within my heart
though I must hide her, feed her scrabble tiles
which spell out not the whole word, only fragments
to interpret, like now, as I lie here blooming
on the crumpled linen, the creased pillows
an ideal board though the vowels have gone
and damp feathers are bleeding out the sides.


© Copyright 2017 Millie G. All rights reserved.

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