Gale Force

Mouths of westward wind,
his lips a belated burden
an all-consuming bite.

I’ve bitten back—bit—I bite
mouthfuls of sutured skin. I spit this wind.
We’re taught to tote the breath of burden.

Unspoken pliable floss—burden
we thatch for love’s blistered bite.
Knee-deep in loss, onward wind,

onward. I’m planted within warm burden, nary this wind nor woven westward bite.

© Grace Black

imageNational Poetry Month: Day 7


Prompt: Tritina



30 poems in 30 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 30 in 30.

Love and Ink,


  1. Your poem read very melodic to me, I loved the line “Knee-deep in loss, onward wind,”, it reminded me that even though we may be in the gutter, the wind will still blow, and the earth will still move, so we should move with them.

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