Airborne Exodus
by Melissa McGinnis
This thing of gears and cord and pasted-on feathers,
Ticks like a pulse, jumping and twitching.
Always one wrong twist away,
From the mainspring buckling and snapping,
And turning the dream of flight to rust.
I think I was born without an escapement,
You just wind, wind, wind me up,
And watch me spasm and shudder.
Mistaking my tears for spattered lubricant,
But life was never meant to be easy,
For a clockwork colleen.
With dreams of airborne exodus. |
Titles
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