Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Sophia Naz

Only Their Wings Were Left

Only Their Wings Were Left

Only Their Wings Were Left

I was carried through all the elements; after which I swallowed;

an unfinishing
a perpetration into silence
a dead hummingbird

a pair of estranged lovers

I returned stealing into myself  at the dead of night;

a broken door
a missing thread
a river crossing a river

a tomb of crayons

a sightless bird
a hand of broken mirror
a skein of rumor

I saw the sun flashing with blinding brilliance; I approached;

a jumble of soupspoons
a cartwheeling motel
a chiffonade of moonbeams

a gospel tart

a double life
an orphaned earring
a spider lily

a paper thin wing

Close to the gods above and
close to the gods below and I;

a mongrel whine
a flock of monarchs, cloudless
a sulphur butterfly

a leaf of milkweed

I worshipped them face to face;

a volute,  a swamp conch,
a  crown conch, a giant whelk,
a thorny oyster, a sea urchin

a Moon shell

I spelled
the spring right there I held
the cold cold glass
of heaven to my throat:

a chrysalis
a sun split open
a cellophane skin

a bare fluorescence

I wrapped my body in the naked droplet and wept;

a sleeping river
a bird of paper
a thousand years

Close

Only Their Wings Were Left

I was carried through all the elements; after which I swallowed;

an unfinishing
a perpetration into silence
a dead hummingbird

a pair of estranged lovers

I returned stealing into myself  at the dead of night;

a broken door
a missing thread
a river crossing a river

a tomb of crayons

a sightless bird
a hand of broken mirror
a skein of rumor

I saw the sun flashing with blinding brilliance; I approached;

a jumble of soupspoons
a cartwheeling motel
a chiffonade of moonbeams

a gospel tart

a double life
an orphaned earring
a spider lily

a paper thin wing

Close to the gods above and
close to the gods below and I;

a mongrel whine
a flock of monarchs, cloudless
a sulphur butterfly

a leaf of milkweed

I worshipped them face to face;

a volute,  a swamp conch,
a  crown conch, a giant whelk,
a thorny oyster, a sea urchin

a Moon shell

I spelled
the spring right there I held
the cold cold glass
of heaven to my throat:

a chrysalis
a sun split open
a cellophane skin

a bare fluorescence

I wrapped my body in the naked droplet and wept;

a sleeping river
a bird of paper
a thousand years

Only Their Wings Were Left

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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