I wrote this for English class, emulating the style of Linda Hogan’s Innocence.
There is nothing more free
than the just-closed door and open arms I see,
all of us assured of the other’s presence
amid the clamoring of the outside.
She goes out
Someday she will grow wings, surpassing the spacious
chrysalis of her fenced nest
with fringed feathers or a spirit
running beyond her genesis.
I turn away, keep going,
wind-chilled, myself a bent-back laborer.
Completing mindless tasks,
an independent soul
runs back to her parentage.
This same freedom I must own,
going out assured of who I am
in communion with family
despite my rebel nature.
I’m still working on Fibonacci Monster: Finale. I’ve been literally writing a couple sentences a day.