Timber

by Poet on the Piano   Jun 7, 2013


Sneaking into her covers, zipping up her
backbone like the amateur costume that
told her flimsy mind,
creativity gets lost among dusk.

no longer hearing the bullet run,
her knees, hardened knuckles,
are swaying - tree trunks
not quite rooted in the sturdiest
soil.

and she falls asleep with feathers
still tousled within her bronze hair,
forgetting that (tomorrow),
she will be forced out of her dreams
without anything to remind herself
she is not just skin and bones.

-
Written 6/07/13 @ 6:45 pm

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  • 12 years ago

    by Britt

    Not quiet rooted in the sturdiest
    soil.

    Quiet = quiet :)

    "without anything to reminder herself"

    Reminder s/b remind :)

    Reminderself, you can just throw it all together, redneck style ;) hahahaha.

    I really like this poem. Instantly it made me think of a circus/carnival (tis the season here!), and someone being shot out of a cannon against their will, held for ransom or some sort of terrifying thing.

    I love the part about the tree .. roots are so strong and without them, it really is weakened and swaying.

    I also love the idea of zipping up her backbone... she isn't strong, but she's going to have to pretend to be (which is what made me think of the cannon). Face her fears, no matter how terrifying they are.

    Awesome write, MA! Creative title, too :)

    Edit -- well then I see you changed it to Timber, haha! I like that one, too!

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