If she had wings
This girl would fly:
Flex those great heavy things
Dense with muscle and bone
Just launch herself right out the window
Of this rusty trailer,
Skim away over the yard
Clogged with cars that have no engines
And dead tires with no place to go.
She’d fly before he gets home
Wrapped in the smells of beer and the girl
Who lives behind the Rosebud Cafe;
Fly before he takes his ugly knife
And slices off her flying feathers
Takes that oily hard fist
And smacks her one to show her who he is
And where she needs to be.
If she had wings
This girl would fly.
But she won’t wait around for them.
She’s got what she needs:
Good strong legs in secondhand jeans
And eager feet in scuffed up boots.
They’ll do just fine.
Behind the Scenes: This piece is part of the cycle that includes "The Woman Who Is Part Horse" and "The Ground She Walks On" -- stories of women reclaiming their power (with a dash of magic thrown in) inspired by my years working in domestic violence services.
About the Creator
Jean McKinney
Writer and illustrator reporting back from the places where the mundane meets the magical, every Tuesday and Friday. Creator of the fantasy worlds of the Moon Road and Sorrows Hill. Learn more and get a free story at my LinkTree.
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More stories from Jean McKinney and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Digital Pandemic.
After a long day in the department, Emily dropped her worn and tired dark leather bag on the counter before navigating through the small and disordered kitchen to grab a cold beer from a contrarily empty fridge. She hadn't had a chance to unpack since moving from Newcastle to Glasgow, let alone shop for sustenance, except for cold brews naturally.
By Billie Whyte4 days ago in Chapters
Comments (2)
The literary imagination weaves wings for many!
I liked this. Loved the if she had wings she could fly parts.