(AN: I think writing good short poetry is one of the most difficult aspects of writing poetry in general. This is an attempt of mine.)
--
fluting tongue,
crepe wings -- wrinkled, alien fans,
emerging from the pupa, split pod
the agony of stretched, stilted limb,
wet and stained, a lady in the rain.
latched to the branch, a misplaced
earbob. she shivers, shakes the
silty dust of metamorphosis
from the folds and ripples
of flightless wings.
the light reads the wingpatterns
like a palmist.
