Some of us,
apparently, need
to break.
I lug a wagon
full of lead
across the sand.
Attach anchors
to my wings
and then jump
from the fourth story.
I built a whole
city of lies
and then lived
in it. Paved
its streets
with reasons why.
I line the hems
of my every dress
with uprooted
stumps and pour
oil across the floor—
it glistens slickly between
the front door
and wherever else
we want to go—
all in an effort
to hide from
these six words,
we are ready
for real love.
Don’t be so hard on yourself honey. life happens … while you’re attaching anchors to your wings — fly I say FLY! love you Laurie
Seems like a poem about wings (the last 2 lines) and how hard it is when you feel them emerge from your scapulas
I think your title, R, needs one less anchor:
Really? Is This What It Takes?
Also, this stanza switches to past tense, which I understand why, but I think it reads with more immediacy in this case in present tense, to flow with the rest of the poem:
I build a whole
city of lies
and then live
in it. Pave
its streets
with reasons why.
Interesting, those last six words, in light of the rest of the poem.