Contrasts

This little poem came out of an exercise in a poetry workshop run by Stephen Knight. Five random words were picked out of a hat and we had 10 minutes to write a two-stanza poem, one of the words per line. I rather liked the result: the point of the exercise being that sometimes we work better with constraints than without them.

Rooted in waiting at bus-stops

she drifts off like a bird,

flits in and out of dreams of stairwells,

a pillar of deepest longing,

to bring tidy smell of wax.

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A bird trapped in his rust-cage,

wax coats his wings and beak.

He comes to a glottal stop

halfway up the stair,

watching her turn to a pillar of salt.