Brittle

This is actually practicing for my series imagery, rather than a poem. But I wanted to see how well I could use description in shorter format- and on something I'm *not actively experiencing.*

Running your finger across Birch bark,
a famous outer shell,
as it flakes airy whips of cream,
but does it ever swell?

Does its trunk hold at the cusp,
before it snaps, echoing a crack,
as powder clouds in puffs,
to tongue of dust and blistered track.

Slice through flesh and drag the wound
to the thick of brittle in human spine.
Feel each piece tense as it bends too soon,
exposing the marrow for demons to dine.

As all bones under stress threaten to do,
they shatter, smell of ash- oak ember in hue,
this is how heartache feels when received,
from those who should, but don't love you. 

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

You did the exercise nicely...your descriptive write was poignant and vivid. I likey, Aramey. :)