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the xylophone
by Christina Butcherthe clouds hang
tilt down
over the mountains
they hum low notes
for small boys
sing long songs
for passing birds
they pause
suck in their breath
until their lungs fill with
fat, heavy drops that
press against their ribcage
that fall against the faces
of the mujahedeen
small boys
with faces
upturned
towards the sky
into morning air filled with
fat, heavy drops
small boys with crumpled feathers
moving slow within the fog
along their way
the ground is wet
with fat, heavy drops
05/21/2009 Posted on 05/21/2009
Copyright © 2024 Christina Butcher
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 05/22/09 at 03:16 AM The poem is as lyrical as ever, but why "mujahedeen"? I didn't get that. |
| Posted by Kimberly Bowen on 03/04/10 at 06:58 PM "small boys with crumpled feathers" really made this poem for me. nice work! |
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