A Little Story About My Collarbones

My collarbones are my wings
they curve with the poise of the sea,
white as the foam of its waves
these flightless pinions of mine.
It is as if we were once creatures purposed for a sky
and our wings were sprouting and then they stopped short
rounded off into shoulders
but I will not let my skin and bones be an excuse
for my lack of flight,
these are my collarbones,
they are powerful,
they collect raindrops and moonbeams
shaking with laughter and surprise
they are sacrificial soldiers
breaking in half with the grace of bread broken at communion
so that it doesn't break my heart instead,
my collarbones are my wings,
and they are fearsome,
they kiss the tips of my hair and freckled skin like stars,
glistening like swords poking out of my chest,
daring only the bravest to near,
they perch and pitch and rise
like silent suns without names, eddies of rose
these are my collarbones,
they will not yield, they will not part,
like the feelings of secondary characters,
they are the frames to my art.

-anna sluder

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