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Ode to Dotty
August 14, 2008
I love you, yes,
but I don’t need you.
You are but
a feather,
lost in my wing.
A beautiful one,
though,
I will admit.
You stand out,
black,
from the pristine
off-white—
but you disrupt my flight,
for you stick out.
My velocity takes a
blow,
my fear starts to
show—
So I wait
(a season)
until I start to shed,
and thank God for my
newfound
speed.
After all,
there’s euphoria to be found
in the freed.
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