Fallen Wings/ poem by Ken Holland


A wasp’s wing hangs in the lattice of a web,
An iridescent artifact of flight lifted by a spring wind
Toward a pale memory of height, till tucked back
To the comfort of silk and the spider’s spinneret,
The fracturing of light traveling the hollow 
Veins of its wing

As when you wake from a difficult dream, the dream’s
Dissolution, and in the fading wave of a hand you sense
The heartbreak, the shape of sorrow, words held
In its cupped fingers like fallen wings, like voices
Left unspoken.

 
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Ken Holland is an award-winning poet whose work has been widely published in such journals as Rattle, Southwest Review, The Cortland Review and Poetry East.  Most recently in The Carolina Quarterly, Wisconsin Review, and Stillwater Review, with poetry forthcoming in The Chariton ReviewThe American Journal of Poetry, and Confrontation..  A Pushcart nominee, he placed first in the 2019 Stephen DiBiase competition, and third in the 2020 Naugatuck River Review contest.  His poems have also been featured in a number of anthologies.  He resides in Fishkill, New York, and reads throughout the Hudson Valley or wherever Zoom will take him.  

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