Poem: False Wing

 

False Wing

 

wind kicks, hurts, to box my head, taunts,

impossible to tame;

breaks out of the jail of my will,

ever since the genesis of this fear.

such a sorrowful skull’s failure

to imprison what eroded the loft of delight.

dents of sun scatter, diffusive to ingress.

my entreaties swing stale,

feckless among the heretical howls,

such is the Prospero of my pride,

hunkered as a gargoyle, pitted and pilloried

by the lash of whirled glares, this wind

that bucked the saddle soon after i laughed to decree

how far and high my ingenuity could matter.

it worries me everywhere,

gnawsome of solar canines--

such an indescribable lack-of-shadow.

goosebumps shudder my muscles,

remind me i assumed false wing,

when young brash mastery

succumbed to feathery ride.

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5/1 ... removed a word

5/1 (later) ... changed the last few lines for impact and flow

5/1 ... changed a few words...