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
violation of circumstance
things come like jewels & promises
& shiny shoes
new indifferent
to lunacy
like sharp pencils
on pages of air
but they go
you know, they go
when the wind is radiant
with ash
& the silvered glass peels its way into
another room
they slip
into beyond
into the human way into decay
but new is not grow
& the shift of unblemished callow
into
a serendipitous age
is more than
a violation of circumstance
Gillian Prew lives in Scotland. She has a philosophy degree and a succession of low-paid, menial jobs to her credit. Having abandoned her first novel she currently writes poetry. Some of her poems can be found at Eviscerator Heaven, Up the Staircase, The Glasgow Review, Eleutheria and The Recusant. She is responsible for two collections of poems, ‘Moving on the Madness’ and ‘Standing Still in Motion’.
