Loose this from her chest
and you may find something un
-slatted, spattered over all her quest
-ions, all her want. Something small and in
-significant, really, something no one else might
see. Is it really so foreign, feathered, this cold held
hope in tattered hands? Is it really so hard to un
-shake her fists at the sky, open them wide
and empty them for greater things?
If she sings in sorrow, will the
sparrow join her sigh?



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5 Responses to Crowbar

  1. This singsscreamssighs straight from the heart. Wow, De. I ♥ this.

  2. Love the shape – sort of like a crowbar!
    “cold held / hope” wow. And the final line. This is really wonderful – so much angst expressed so well. As usual I love your ingenious line breaks. “Quest / ions” really good. I am in awe!

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