Page 64 - WTP Vol. XI #3
P. 64

 iSabella Cruz
like secrets whispered into the wings of birds, I will my words to take flight.
instead, my tongue swells
with phrases I don’t mean.
the cutting thing I should blunt with goosedown feathers.
the boasting thing, drown
with the caw of the heron.
the tired and fearsome things, douse
in the chickadee’s midwinter bath.
so this wordweight might not burden the telling of stolen happinesses;
the moon’s dance on the cheek of someone you cannot hold gently enough,
before they turn toward you, erasing all the day’s glimmer and you become all shroudlight,
the telling of this, worthy of birdwhisper— it brings with it a lifting levity
so the shorebird might know, too,
the hidden pleasures of the wading bird.
Cruz is a writer, an educator, and a Floridian. She cur- rently works as a writing tutor and is pursuing her MFA. Her works have appeared in Wigleaf, Necessary Fiction, and World Enough Writers.

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