Take a favorite line or image from an earlier poem this month and re-work it into a new poem. I had absolutely no preconceived notion of where this would take me.
It took me to the sky.
“The theatre of toil”
wafting with the ravens,
their flights stagnant against
the torrents of breath and time.
One shadow nestled against the sun,
a thousand horizons,
a myriad songs of plunder penned
in the spiral theatre.
One shadow weaved in lost cadence.
I would willingly fold up my wings
and offer them to the stars for
one unbound night as
captives held together