Poetry Reading | stolen wings are made of clay

stolen wings are made of claya poem by Gwevera Nightingaleonly once was each the dunce for farthest strokes with blended blokescreaks and cracks brewed broken backs for solemn souls who broke the goalsnevermore would prove some chore with those who’d melt a love that svelteunless, of course, they were too course — if a horse, they walked a corpsea sister’s mother’s love was fierce, yearning twofold, both sides piercewomen loving women knew, fate wasn’t something they could brewthose tender timings tore through time, teaching feathers forthborn grimekeep those safe you feel the most, see, lest you turn their heart a ghosttightest burrowed, longest lost, brows had furrowed, missed; the costmy stolen wings are made of clay, for me they’re love, for her they’re playnever could things be less right for how I’ve called her soul each nightshe taught me, and I stuck right there — she held my chest, I smelled her hairthey only talk about the weather - Arny MargretGwevera’s Favorite Songs This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit opheliaeverfall.substack.com