Posted: November 3, 2012 in So called Poetry

There’s a Hummingbird in my chest,
in this creaky aching cage of bone.
And I hold it there too tightly
just to hush its maddened drone.

And when I wake each morning,
again, first thing, I trap it still.
It’s harder, harder every day
to clench the growing thrill

of panic, at seeing this whole world
all clean-pressed and merry aglow.
I tremble, shuuder as I wonder
if someone might just know

what dreams I had last night
as I starved for blessed rest
that never came, as hummingbird screams
tore through my prison chest.

If only I could crush its wings
to feathers and debris.
Or better yet, have mercy
and set the mad thing free.

But my poor, dear hummingbird,
must stay forever in its cage.
So I wash the nightmares from my skin
and claw my way onstage.

  1. Radhika Gupta says:

    One of your best poems!!

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