I made myself take wing,
My hollow bones too light to fall
Without the weight of stone.

I made my heart a stone,
A pebble to be tossed. No wing,
No chute to slow my fall.

I made a choice to fall,
To break upon your bed of stone:
A bird–a broken wing.

If you had stooped to catch me on the wing–if you had checked my fall–I might have flown for you. But love, I am not made of stone.

One of the things I love about yeah write is that it gives me room to push my own boundaries. A couple of us have been on a poetry kick lately, which is fun and terrifying at the same time. This week, Rowan G. threw down the gauntlet and challenged a few of the editors to try their hands at writing a tritina. She gave me the words “wing, fall, stone.” I gave her “stone, wine, grace.” A couple others may be playing along, and I’ll list them here if/when they post.

18 thoughts on “Fragile

  1. Silverleaf says:

    So when Rowan suggested last week that I try a sestina, I started looking at tritinas. I’m halfway through the construction of a sestina but this, and hers, makes me want to give up! Then again, it also spurs me on.
    This works so so well, is so beautiful and is constructed so pristinely. The images are exquisite and the rhythm perfect – you ARE the Queen of Iambs 🙂 *sigh* You make it seem so effortless and yet so impossible. I think I can stop gushing now.


  2. Briefwords says:

    The rhythm of the lines and the dashes in this reminded me of Emily Dickinson, the way she’d write her poems, her style. A very Emily Dickinson-esque poem for me.


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