This Poem was commended for Winged Muse Poetry Competition of Winged Moon Literary Magazine
After Harpy by Valerie Hammond
In seven nights she will burst
into nothing. Now all alone in a cream
coloured void, a wound
like creature, a word hunger like no other.
Soon you will meet her
in the neon gloaming, after the ruby ache
of not writing for a long winter,
frost flowers in your heart. Her low wings
will be closed, sharp claws
pointing down and down, some frozen
sadness on her pale face.
Sunset’s vermilion beams will bleed
into your lungs as you hold
her by hair, unfurl the ribbon to tie it
around your neck, to see your freedom
knotted in its silk, and breathe
life into her mouth. You will watch her
unfold her wings wide, talons
will scratch the soft air when she cloaks
you tight until you morph into
a harpy to write a septet poem in red ink.
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