I am a bird. by Aaron BlairI am a bird,
mutated,
wings reptilian,
the feathers plucked
or forgotten altogether
by fickle evolution.
Or I would be,
if this body were not
packed so tightly
around a useless womb,
aerodynamics ignored.
To every organ its purpose,
the wet machinery of biology
dutifully soldiering on,
but no matter how I empty myself
I still can't fly.
I want to know why I am here
and what's this anchor
in my middle
refusing to let me leave. 01/03/2007 Posted on 01/04/2007 Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 01/16/07 at 04:16 AM Fantastic, the descriptions are tactile, and so real I got chills and felt my feathers missing too. |
Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/11/07 at 02:37 AM Another awesome. Where have I been —having missed your poetry? I'm so glad I found you here. —J |
Posted by Christina Butcher on 07/25/07 at 01:48 PM i like this poem, but i don't think that the ending is quite as strong as the rest of the poem. cool concept, though, and i enjoyed reading it. |
|