Chosen from a multitude of words
that tend
to drip between fingertips
like almost-icicles
to describe
the girl who has learned to origami crane her body,
physically capable yet unable
to fly;
learned to turn down the volume,
turn away,
hunch into a cracked-driveway
driven over version
of living.


I’m posing.


9 thoughts on “Winged”

  1. I love how you came back to “Imposing,” then drew just a little more out of it. The imagery in this poem is beautiful. Never stop writing. 🙂

  2. Would you mind if I use this AMAZING poem for a project I’m doing? I’m kind of making an anthology of poetic devices (notes from the summer have given me a leg up in L.A) and this is perfect for one of them. I’d credit you, of course

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