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Precision Brutality
by Aaron BlairA flock of birds spread out
across a darkening sky,
appearance akin to drops of paint
strewn across a canvas;
the same way my blood looked
after falling to the bathroom floor.
But nature is not so careless with its parts,
preferring to practice its brutality with precision.
The sharp point of a wing
slices open the top of the world,
makes a gate for passing beyond;
a place you and I can't go. 03/06/2007 Posted on 03/07/2007
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/07/07 at 05:03 AM I dunno. I think I like that line and how it keeps the whole thing rolling nicely. But that's just one man's opinion. Nice work. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/11/07 at 02:30 AM Wow. This is fine writing. I feel as if I'm completely inside the writing.
I've found a new fave! —Jill |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/11/07 at 02:32 AM —awesome title, too... |
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