Grounded

by kholinar

Swallows
on stilts succeeding
at steps— 1
necks…
bleeding from stress.
Quests leading…
to pinfeather orchards
and fans spread
a-flutter with
windfalls and
birdcalls picked
up as we’re driving…
knives,
deep
plying,
into their flight.

  1. Sometimes when I write something and it comes quickly, it comes with melody and rhythm. Not something completely concrete, but I can’t read the words in my mind without hearing the intervals and pacing. It’s not something I can ever disassociate. Translating the even the rests between notes to poetry is particularly difficult, so I’m not sure how well this one works on its own. ↩