i find the feather on the bathroom floor, behind the door
bone-white, it is soft in my hand
a thing barely there, a whisper.
the night
has left me a gift, this darkness
has light.
has beauty.
there are things that happen when i close my eyes, things breathe.
all day i think of this, the wing, the soft warm breast
pulsing
the wonder of it, the
secret.
— behind a closed door
© Liezel Graham 2020.
Image by Nico Frey
Unsplash
on finding an unexpected thing—the softness thereof, and how it clings to the skin all day.
liezel graham 