With Feathers


My emotions perch precarious inside me.

They rattle like birds in a cage.

Fatigue takes up most of the room,

broad and blue-plumed

on a faux-felled tree.


And little, yellow Anxiety

darts between his dullness and the wall,

stirring up seed and strands of straw

for an update on the floor’s condition.


All this beheld with sullen repetition

by Obsession on his acrobat’s swing,

picking dust from his coat

of ebony and counterfeit control.


And yet, in the center, suspended

by ropes ending in parallel rings,

dangles glimmering Hope,

somehow still pristine in the fervor.


Not above or below, but on her own plane,

serene and opalescent—

and despite the frail gate

she could game and escape,

she remains.


Obstinate. Ever-present.

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