impediment

she tried writing poetry on paper

but with each catch hold push slide of graphite

the creamy white pages

tore

scored with ripped runways of spinal cords

filaments stretching like sinew

quiet paper death

and the dust of grey pencil breath

mixed with it, ash in snow

the fire that burnt down her castle

the words that flap in her lungs like a cough but

won't come out

paper wings like moths, coated

in graphite dust

forever clustering

as her pages turned to sand, slipping

through time's hourglass

never to be filled with the cloud-headed

stumbling footprints

wobbly knees

dazed wanderings of a writer

pulled and stretched but released

sent into flight

a flock of pencil-marked birds