Lesser Than
a free verse poem
I must have tasted 30 different titles for this poem on the tip of my tongue — discarding them all. I still hate the title.
Regardless, enjoy my poem “Lesser Than”
I did not mean to be lesser.
My gifts rose like balloons
as high as standing in your
shadow would allow.
I shattered them quickly —
one by colorful one,
for fear of the wind.
Rising up would have meant being seen.
Only one spirit can soar
from this place where
the cottonwoods were plucked
like worms from the soil.
The quiet of my nerve,
the cerebral sulking of
time across my brow,
the drivel that filled
the pink one — lifting,
shattered
the white one that sank —
ribbon still tied to its neck,
and the green one that floated
away on the wind — before I
could force the exhale.
Christina Ward 🌼 is a poet, columnist, and nature writer from North Carolina. Stay in touch!
