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Bird Bones by Margaret Drzewiecki

Margaret Drzewiecki | Dec 14th, 2018 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

I’m full
of last lines and
titles and nothing
in the middle, I’m
tired of waiting —
I sleep over covers
so I don’t have
to make the bed, if
I already know
the ending, how
do I get from here
or is it there — nevermind,
I bought new curtains
but haven’t hung them,
fluff my pillows with
hands too often empty,
daydream without
blinking, and I guess
I’m just wondering how
long I’ll feel this feeling:
hollow.

Poet Bio

Margaret Drzewiecki is a twenty-something Buffalonian who writes sometimes but wishes it was more. She loves hotel pens and always takes her tea with cream. She wishes people would mail postcards more often.

Poem

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