poetry slam pt. 2

[shybard]

This was originally written for Jer. Since this practice was initiated for Tori I thought I'd pick something she might like. Let me know.

The Weight of Winter Limbs

The wind is blowing, stirring the naked limbs
like boys with sticks. Do you remember
those nights we walked and talked
‘til the gray light rose, worn and lonely
through the winter fog? We knew
that spring was coming, and maybe
we should have been happy, but all it meant
for us was having to toss aside our armored coats,
and giving up all private rights to late night roadways.

Spring will never have a winter moon.
Grass should crunch under the might
of steel-toed boots; just as the melting ice
and muddy rivers shivered as we passed.
Winter air keeps secrets like the barren trees
cling to empty nests, and we knew best
the quiet strength of breaking ice.

We fought the emptiness,
as dogs howled at the agony
of the creeping moon, who stayed
never long enough, and left
the world to the harsh gray
of hazy winter light. Do you remember
the sickly sun slipping slowly across
the sky? How we hated that bedtime.
We beat aside the world with the quiet power
of unrest. And beat our bloody hearts-
like boys with sticks.