Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Metal wings

we’re born from the ashes
broken bottles and
blood-stained rags
cold hands hold and mold
our crying bodies
in blankets and cloth

the ice is melting
tears in ripples
frozen rage against
the bars and cage

blaming those hands
born to broken people
burned in mortar and char
in the foundries of past.

there is weight in flight
with metal wings.

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