"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Melissa Crowe
She lives in Portland, Maine, USA
Her blog: Milk and Paper

Threadbare

I sit, spine-stitched, and weave wing to bird
in this bed of twig-spit: we do what we
can. Everybody's fragile as a swan neck.
Everybody under feather-puff has bones
of glass. In one hand a needle and thread
but who said she who makes repairs can't
also be the one to make the tears.
I think I ripped these birds to shreds. It's due
to me they need their heads attached, their
small hearts held while I make my
stabs of love. Oh, mother, what happened
in your nest. Oh, mother, I am grateful
for the free fall, the ground smack. Even though
I need a mend, I won't be coming back.

Originally published on writer's personal blog.
Posted with consent of the writer.

5 Comments:

  1. Love For Life said...
    Oh, this makes me want to cry:(
    The letting go is the hardest part.
    WHY said...
    There's so much to appreciate in this poem, my favorites:

    "Everybody's fragile as a swan neck."

    "..who said she who makes repairs can't also be the one to make the tears."

    "..while I make my stabs of love."
    RachelW said...
    Oh, another of my very favourite poets! Thank you! :)
    CLAY said...
    "Oh mother, what happened in your nest"--I like how the question resonates as if it will never be answered. This is a powerful device when coupled with the statement "I won't be coming back"--Oh! not an bit of remorse nor one thought of valediction! Splendid piece Ms. Crowe.
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    This poem has a coming of age feel..an old ancient tale of love, hurt, moving on...very poignant. I love the rich artistic structure and the pairing of words.

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