public sculpture, buenos aires
How I
Got My Wings
by
Lisa Vihos
They
began
as
an annoying itch
between
my shoulder blades
running
along the scapula
like
poison ivy
turned
pins and needles
turned
porcupine quills
instigating
an irritation
so
profound I had to drink
myself
to sleep each night;
a
half bottle of cabernet
per
side. I was beside myself
with
grief over a wide array
of
losses over a long trail
of
years and tears.
Tears,
I had shed
by
the bucket.
But
one day
the
itch was gone.
I
woke up with a feather
tickling
my nose, realizing
my
own wings caressed
my
face like the hands
of
a phantom lover
who
wanted me blessed,
wanted
to tease me awake
and
surprise me
with
a gift. The gift
to
fly up out of the pain
at
the drop of a hat
or
the flap of a wing
like
going airborne
in
a dream.
~
first published in Seems
