Poetry Reading | stolen wings are made of clay

stolen wings are made of clay a poem by Gwevera Nightingale only once was each the dunce for farthest strokes with blended blokes creaks and cracks brewed broken backs for solemn souls who broke the goals nevermore would prove some chore with those who’d melt a love that svelte unless, of course, they were too course — if a horse, they walked a corpse a sister’s mother’s love was fierce, yearning twofold, both sides pierce women loving women knew, fate wasn’t something they could brew those tender timings tore through time, teaching feathers forthborn grime keep those safe you feel the most, see, lest you turn their heart a ghost tightest burrowed, longest lost, brows had furrowed, missed; the cost my stolen wings are made of clay, for me they’re love, for her they’re play never could things be less right for how I’ve called her soul each night she taught me, and I stuck right there — she held my chest, I smelled her hair they only talk about the weather - Arny Margret Gwevera’s Favorite Songs Get full access to Of Darkness & Light at www.ofdarknessandlight.net/subscribe