By: Danielle Boodoo-Fortuné
She fears I’ve grown too wild
to be kept indoors
so just this once,
I let her scald the feathers
from my body, anoint me,
wrap me in gauze.
But while she sleeps
I will forage in corners
for dying things,
sprout slim bones from my spine
that will arch into wings.
Thanks for coming by! This blogspace is an effort, borne out of a student's need for a place for West Indian & West Indian descent poets. A place where we could share our work, read and be inspired and/or informed, from shared or interconnected heritages. As we try to make sense of how we have come to "be so" collectively, individually. Inside and out.
 | joanie Mithcell on Harbor |
 | Scott Mitchell on Harbor |
 | Arna J brown Morgan on The Baptist War |
 | Danielle Boodoo-Fort… on On Being Untame |
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Very provocative piece; wings sprouting from trapped appearances.
Kudos!
Thank you!!