Labyrinths and Very Small Suns

My youngest egg flew out of the nest
and joined the circus.
She traveled the galaxy
collecting labyrinths of reflections;
and very small suns.

When our breasts next filled with spring song,
her big brother joined a marching murder.
“Your instrument will carry its own weight!” I tweeted,
before his wit could decide to explore irony.
His phone was set to vibrate, but I know he got it.

Still… I’ve smelled the tune of hard metal
creeping towards his window nest.

Process Note: a “murder” is a band of crows. Yes, I just wanted to type that so that I could say it aloud in my head. Few things are as cool as a murder of crows. Well, perhaps an unkindness of ravens comes close… but just barely.

***
for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 16 – Flying Out of this World: Write a poem where the speaker travels to a parallel, but infinitely remote, universe.

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (What’s Your Vision)

Cosmic Galaxy Egg and Bird's Nest“Birds Nest”, by David Hess; and “Cosmic Galaxy Egg”, by Andrew Logan (I couldn’t find the name of the piece that resembles a string instrument gone wild… Anyone?). I borrowed the image from ARTSblog.

Climbing Trees in a Skirt

I had a threesome of girls living on the tip of my tongue. At fifteen, their separate existence was my living. On Fridays, the girl I guarded most spent hours at the library meeting gods, talking to dead people with a past, and discussing the benefits of flax seed on festering wounds. Fridays were short. Weekdays were womanned by a camouflaged girl who knew patience—library girl would’ve never survived hand-to-mind combat against nuns who believed Jesus rose to save souls while teaching math. Home girl was wicked fun and fierce. She looked hot blood in the eye, never pretended not to know, climbed mango trees wearing skirts, and cackled with the moon.

fifteenth spring of life…
tight triad of one, morphing;
she’s growing her Self

***
for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 15 – Fifteen: Write a poem about the town or city where you spent the fifteenth year of your life. If a poem about said place doesn’t move your muse, try something memorable that happened when you were that age. Introduce us to fifteen-year-old you.

Defiance, by Angie Wright

Defiance”, by Angie Wright