iron lips

wind pricks on skin

like teeth skidding across highways

and i grit my teeth and murmured

don’t

gnashed teeth and curled fingers

left wrinkled marks

and i held my heart in golden afternoons

and wondered when your breath

punctured the ridges of my strength

i kept asking god why i was not

made of inlaid stone

why i could not climb along the brow

of steep hills

i asked him why he tied

gnarled roots around my feet

why he coursed sputtered sighs

within my veins

in the end

i was made of ruffled sheets

and crimson gasps

i saw winter’s knuckles

whiten against heavy skies

coiled whispers lodged themselves

along the faults in the pavement

and wondered

why

Published by

Brittany Adames

Brittany Adames is an eighteen-year-old Dominican-American writer. She spends time writing poetry and leaving short stories half-finished.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s