Neck arched, head to the Heavens, eyes to the sky, arms outstretched, ready to fly,

The rattle that had been the death of the last breath climbing


Up the sturdy thighs

Through the curve of the pelvis

Rolling thunder

The small of her back

Up a slightly crooked spine

So divine

Tingling in between

Her shoulder blades

Out to the tips of her wings

Round trip into her breast bone

Gathering the speed of sound

In her throat,

A pure note

The rapture of the strong


Life everlasting

Never to falter

Never to fail


Set sail

Across the Moon-glow

And everything

They think they know

Is nothing

In the wake of the sound

Of the song.


Teri Skultety

Categories: Uncategorized

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