Inhaling the sky by David Hanlon
toothpick bones, clipped wings,
swarm-buzz, anxious bees;
collapsing into a ruinous truth.
Did I rattle for decades in a prison of my own making?
A moulting of the internalised--
stone is fruit, a forgotten heap
on my own flesh prison’s floor;
a cage within my cage,
vessels for breath, vessels: blood flow.
Metal bars pried open, screeching,
wings prized from steel captivity,
I breathe in the unobscured; this celestial dome above me.
My deep chest is an atmosphere,
mapping out constellations and flare
My thorax a repository, a
showcase for spectacles, a
The sky is an open wound,
church, its organ,
an unbarred echo,
its flight, the kindest weapon.
This poem originally appeared in Spectrum of Flight, Animal Hearts Press, 2020.
David Hanlon is a Welsh poet living in Bristol, England. He is a qualified counsellor/therapist. You can find his work online in Rust & Moth, Into The Void, Barren Magazine, Mojave Heart Review, Kissing Dynamite & Homology Lit, among others. His first chapbook is forthcoming in Spring 2020 with Animal Heart Press.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.