the idea of wings
Gillian Prew, July 2009
never round was the shape of this day
never gentle
never a soft curiosity
today was the shape of an encyclopaedia
opened at random
showing her answers for which she had
no questions
her questions burned
& they had no answers
“what can we know?”
“does a crow know more than me?”
a crow knows what it needs to know
birds fly because they can
a human wing denies its own existence
her arms ached from flapping
the day was over
she pulled a swathe of night from the sky
stitched it into a bed as
her feathers returned to fingers
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