Cinders, Feathers
- after Malcolm Glass
Back then we had only pin feathers, but I
believed hard in the fairy tale, that we could fly
beyond the dragon breath, that you and I would soar into
a fiction we’d pull from the air. We called it the
kingdom, our fragile domain a single room
in a thorn-wrapped cottage, but we are the cursed whose
ever after is spent beating bloodied wings against sheetrock walls.
- © Deborah Zenha Adams 2022
Deborah Zenha Adams (she/her) is an award-winning author of novels, short fiction, CNF, and poetry. You're invited to visit her website, where everything's free and the dress code is "whatever." www.Deborah-Adams.com
2 comments:
Fabulous poem! I really like the closure, grim as it is. And, of course, that is the point.
Aha! My comment did go through, albeit without my name. I might point out that Deborah's poem is a golden shovel, a form new to me. You take a line from someone's poem and use those words as your end words (in correct order, of course).
Malcolm Glass
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