There's something so bittersweet about this poem, but it's one of my favourites and it appeared on my deviant art today and thought I'd share it on here.
The day folded;
Like a Cabbage White closing its wings
On a windowsill.
With the old, worn-out risk,
the unexplainable, skewed
trigonometry
of drunkenness
you climbed the fire escape.
Got on the roof.
But once you were there, you
envied the stars
their height
and could not get back down.
- Amy Blakemore
I actually wound up reading this poem once, then reading it again like 2 or 3 times. Really nice, I love the freeform nature of it, there's no like x lines per stanza structure to it. The final stanza+2 lines are so nice...puts me in mind of someone sort of like, going for their dreams, then never making it, maybe being too fantastical...Really nice though. It's making me want to read her other stuff too to be fair. Thanks for sharing :)
ReplyDeleteShe's really good! I recommend! :D
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