Notes About The Poem
image from freepik.com
THE WAY IS CLEAR
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She batters against the glass~
a furious comma, drunk
on the light’s false promise.
Almost, she thinks, almost,
though the world beyond
is not the world she knows:
the fizz of rotten plums,
the heat-hum of the hive,
the sweet, dark syrup
of a queen’s abandoned comb.
She does not want sky.
She wants the thick
dumb nectar of home.
Still, she stings the air,
each thrust a prayer
to some god of almost.
The pane stays shut.
She will die like this~
not lost, but certain
past all failing
that the way is clear.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
