Bloiwing Wild Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb
Bloiwing Wild
My rough words
are as deep
as eloquent dialogue.
They strain at
the chiselled throat
like the best
of any voice,
never faltering.
They are not slippery,
but come from
the beginnings
of the earth
and nourished
by raw emotion.
I cannot speak more
because you are bourne
on the wind
and can only hear
its whining.
Waf
Sunday, March 3, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: abc
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4/29/2024 9:58:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
