The Burn Wild class produced this collaborative collage poem. Here’s the process: each creates her own wildwrite, and then we randomly choose one line and read aloud together.
This is what emerged around the topic of stairs . . .
The thoughts are like my backyard
compost – hot
drips rich tea for the soil
Sometimes they move slowly,
softly, a tiny human clutched in
their arms, spilling over the sides
with mouth agape
In childhood dreams repeated, the same one floating down the stairs
of our home, dreamt so often I actually believed I could float down them
The stairs creak, but who hears?
It’s moments like the early dark and cool mornings that I lift her into
my arms by the scruff of her neck to carry her down the stairs
that I’m reminded of the change of Day
My young aunt swooned, my mother made eyes, and my sister was floored.
So stairs are about leaving, climbing, exiting, and taking what is yours.
