Pinned
I was pinned
like an insect
to the wall,
collected in a glass
case, jeered at,
slammed, but I
grew wings, even
under display,
and stretched
my body to fly
away
Good heavens
Good heavens, they say,
and I hope
they are right, I hope
that those wistful
clouds are full of glee,
or at least promise,
that bouncing baby
cherubs live up there,
and a gate will open
one day to something
like a good sign.
No comments:
Post a Comment