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There Is A World Beneath Your Wings This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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There is a world beneath your wing
I am tucked under a fan of feathers.
You are my red-breasted bird, a tremulous heartbeat under my hands,
Infinite, hard, onyx eyes whispering of other, older worlds.
I rest in your down, close to your chest,
and hear the uttering of a song deep between your ribs.
You sing to the setting sun dancing off the barley shoots
And to the pock-marked man of the moon.
But in the morning, my bird, I feel your wing lift and tense.
In a startling flutter you are gone, leaving a single quill behind, but not a single tear
Streaks my face in the light of this orange morning. I watch and understand, my bird.
I remember the smell of black, fertile soil
The crunching footsteps of a lonely man gathering stargazer lilies among the grass.
“Bear it and be free,” he whispered and waved slowly
To a silhouette of you defying the wind between two golden horizons.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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