Wordle #144

144

What strange births are these

That yield my deficiencies

Into corporal form?

Not a mask but a cage

Of anatomy and spirit.

The ether bends

In regurgitation

Too many spoiled dreams,

Capped roots, nesting tongues

Blackened by the ink

Wept to persuade them.

She undresses her variables,

The twine woven between

Her sternum and back,

The snarling malignancies

Of a heart curled in on itself.

Their deaths conjure starlings,

Trinkets of flight and yearning

A song carried with the sigh,

A surreptitious, nullifying neglect.

There are too many mouths to feed

And too many preferences.

Heaven itself could not satisfy

However, sweet the diversion.

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18 responses to “Wordle #144

  1. The opening has sucha strong feeling of helplessness, of being trapped in the mortal coil with all your deficiencies.

    The last made me feel like a parent – Ha. Too may mouths, too many preferences, and you can not keep everyone happy. Ha.

  2. I love this part:
    “She undresses her variables,
    The twine woven between
    Her sternum and back,
    The snarling malignancies
    Of a heart curled in on itself.”

    Absolutely gorgeous writing.

  3. Their deaths conjure starlings, / Trinkets of flight and yearning / A song carried with the sigh,

    Such evocative imagery – with a power that surges through the entire piece – full of an energy – dark perhaps, but an energy that runs beautifully through the misery.

    I know, strange comment – but the entire piece flows so incredibly well. Brilliantly written Yves. 😀

  4. Another great poem… Powerful metahors and truly well written!…
    Oh I nominated for a Brotherhood Award
    You can check it out here, if you are interested, wp.me/p60vo-4p5
    All my best wishes and happy weekend ahead to you. Aquileana ⭐

  5. Pingback: LOYAL DOORMAT | WEALTH of RUINS·

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