Today's poem is by Kimberly Johnson
In my pennyworth of windblown,
of lash and whalebone,
how often have I fastened its billows
sashed beneath furbelows.
Tight cinches the corset, tighter the stays,
smooth and tight
for the bodice's lacings,
but my underpinnings upgust
to thigh to the untrussed
cyclonic eye of me. I'm the low-
sinking the barometer,
the microburst havocking
while I battened down to placid
seem, as a white-glove Sunday
Like all tempests I say
hallelujah for the cage,
the wickerwork and cartilage
within whose strictures wildness can wind
to the shape of its binding.
It's the lid sets the teakettle rocking
at the boil,
the shell's song the gunpowder sings.
Copyright © 2014 Kimberly Johnson All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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