RockPaperPoem

 

Growing Feathers

by Liona T. Burnham

 

—after Leonora Carrington’s painting, The Giantess

 

Our bare feet on the earth
and our heads in the sky,
we open our robes in unison
for the geese to fly out.

We are not floating or dreaming.
Our toes squeeze moist dirt.
We caress our speckled eggs
and return them to our deep pockets.

A blue hole opens in the gray sky.
We reach for it, waving our arms 
toward the heavens.

We have tucked them,
well-behaved and demure,
under our white woolen cloaks
for too long: these limbs
have grown feathers—
trying to take flight.

We can feel the wind
from our great dancing arms
rustling the feathers slightly.
Heavenly light beams down. The angels
are absent this time.

The music is wild inside us.
But we do not launch toward the heavens.
Our long, curved toenails
anchor us to the land.

We do not see the scythe,
the rake, and the fury
tiny below us.
Eventually, without speaking,
we hold hands and fall backwards
into the sea.


Liona T. Burnham’s poems appear or are forthcoming in Sky Island Journal, Infinite Scroll, Jerry Jazz Musician, ONE ART, Stone Poetry Quarterly, and more. She teaches English and journalism to community college students. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters.


 

RockPaperPoem