The Marble Wings

one night he woke up, tried
almost rolling over just to find he’d grown
marble wings
they weren’t as heavy
as he was waiting for, but still
weighty and long and
remarkably, matched the
sage carpet that ticked
his un-calloused feet

at first and naturally he was
very confused as to the two new
limbs, caressing the
stone cold wings

after some silence he tried
to tuck them away,
or at least to drape the sheets over them
but they reminded him of the
carved gargoyles
and so he set them free,
then drew himself up,
spine arching back so he curved,
neck held high
and arms sliding in front of him

finally,
making his way to a bathroom
nail clippers, scissors, hairbrush, nail filer,
and one by one they ran out,
over and over he worked,
but nothing could mark the wings

he’d begun to grow frozen
from an open window and a shirtless torso
and the wings grew heavier
and soon the whole of him was shivering

he closed his eyes

down,
slowly,
slowly,
slowly the
wings chipped like an egg shell,
he used his thumb,
twisting back to peel it away
watching it click on the floor
and now he was concerned he was more
a snake than a bird

that is, until
the mirror caught his eye and
underneath was a rusty purple,
like the sky
in a chilly night such as this,

he pulled open the window
his newborn wings
sniffing the air curiously

another shiver peeled its way
down

slowly,
slowly,
slowly
he used the wings

Hey Hibiscus -

So, this poem. Very down-to-earth (despite your topic). Childishly amusing, and matter-of-fact. It's nice to see how much more strongly your voice comes across here in this piece in comparison to some others, despite the wonderful depunctuation (which should, in theory, make the tone more floaty, inaccessible). But since you balance it well with your tone, it makes for a charming little read. Not a memorable one, by anyone's standards, not a particularly intense or passionate one at that, either - just sweet, light, vaguely memorable.

one night he woke up, tried
almost rolling over just to find he’d grown
marble wings

It reminded me of Peter Pan, actually (besides the obvious wing-hints) - that tone is sort of dead serious, but seems to wink at the reader as well. Just a tiny thing ruining your near-perfect flow here: the 'almost rolling'. I think that 'almost' is throwing the flow out the window just here; too much of a mouthful.

they weren’t as heavy
as he was waiting for, but still
weighty and long and
remarkably, matched the
sage carpet that ticked
his un-calloused feet

Ha. He was 'waiting for [them]'. That just made things all the more intriguing. By this time, the poem is sort of like a billet-doux we come across during a pleasant stroll. A nearly unbelievable one, but light, sweet, something I'll remember for that day, and not on. I rather liked that 'remarkably' there. Added a dash more personality. But 'un-calloused' is messing with the flow again. Think of a smoother way of saying it.

at first and naturally he was
very confused as to the two new
limbs, caressing the
stone cold wings

after some silence he tried
to tuck them away,
or at least to drape the sheets over them
but they reminded him of the
carved gargoyles
and so he set them free,
then drew himself up,
spine arching back so he curved,
neck held high
and arms sliding in front of him

Possibly the opposite reaction to what you'd expect, but this made me laugh. It was so ridiculous that it was funny. It only gets more amusing from there.

down,
slowly,
slowly,
slowly the
wings chipped like an egg shell,
he used his thumb,
twisting back to peel it away
watching it click on the floor
and now he was concerned he was more
a snake than a bird

I really don't think you need to resort to such cheap visual tricks as 'down / slowly / slowly / slowly' - that formatting, while vaguely clever, is not clever enough to justify its own existence in the poem. It's like telling one great big joke that's really something, and trying to squeeze in a smaller, more feeble joke in there, which comes across as rubbish when compared to the bigger one.

The rest of that above stanza has an eerily believable sort of feel to it.

another shiver peeled its way
down

slowly,
slowly,
slowly
he used the wings

Same story here. End on something that is your overarching joke, not the random-wispy-feeble-soft-spoken-badly-timed side tangent that has no effect.

Regardless, this contributed somewhat to my YWS-related amusement of the day. Thanks for the read.


Navita

The stanza's need to be rearranged just a bit. They are a big part of poetry, they can actually create more emotion, believe it or not. I've learned this over time.

I do like the whole idea to this poem. The imagery is very beautiful. You are good with describing the whole atmosphere, the feeling. Keep writing, please (: