Horizontally, I Moved

I let my raw voice rise
but I was chastised, asked to hold my tongue.

I couldn't see the scenery for wings.
What good is blocked out paradise?

And hour after hour to hear that
pallid music: dull, facetious

words repeated to the same
sweet harmonies, like the manna that rained

constantly to feed us.
—I was bored. I tore a feather from one wing

and laid it on his throne, blood tipping
the quill. God found the trifle

and spent light rifling feathers to detect
a spot of loss. So I confessed:

I'd pulled it out for no good reason
except my discontent. He threw me

violently into chaos. Wracked with soot,
my lush wings locked;

now I could only lower myself slowly
and sink until I glimpsed reflected rays

in one thin strand of river through the garden.
This seemed a lasting shape

so I chose that for my seduction's
body: sinuous bolts with skin like waves

of water. Horizontally, I moved.

Lisa Williams

Woman Reading to the Sea
W. W. Norton & Company

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