Best Poems Written by Oona Griffin

The Feather

A rage of weather is tethered to my ribs, 
            held by a soulful feather, silent as a dead foe. 
It will totter to tatters but 
always get better, but 
                        always gets wetter. 
It is a feather that irks the ribs, 
bothers the heart, lures the throat to a close, and 
      sucks damp air from between my fettered ears. 
            It is a feather that can never untether 
                        this rage in my head or
else it would burn, 
            burn, burn
      to a 
            crisp.

Copyright © Oona Griffin | Year Posted 2023