I will never grow tired of rattling cages
It does not matter if it is mine or yours
I love to hear the clanking of the bars
The rattling of bones
The shrieks in the night
Of my fears dying- one by one

Did you know that I have the key?
There is an escape
And there is a way out
Don’t follow the light,
It is not for you and I.

I follow the scent on the wind
The promise of winter’s crisp breath
I follow the sound of a branch breaking
Nock Draw Anchor Aim
A breath for the taking

I will never grow tired of
Shedding skin
Whether it is mine or yours
It matters not when we are becoming
Other, becoming whole under the open sky

Did you know that I care not
For the opinions of your gate keepers?
I only ask
To drive this nail home
That I have no masters
And this cage is only kept around
For the rattling
A score for the settling
Bones for the breaking

Like a snake
I flick flick flick
My lids and silvery tongue
while cities fall to dust
and my doubts slide
Like a slip off my unbent
Unbroken back.
Watch closely
As I destroy any bonds
Placed upon me
Time and time again
With a ululating cry
To battle

Hunter Hall

gloriaHunter Hall’s a ferocious poet seen late last century lurking black-hooded about the rainy streets of Seattle. Reading Deleuze&Guattari while slinging brutal mochas, channeling serpents and raw riot through her spoken-word performances, she now lurks somewhere in the Salish Sea, plotting revolution while baking for her children.

We’re currently in the editing process of the next issue of A Beautiful Resistance! Pre-order, subscription, and underwriting information is here.


3 thoughts on “Ribcage

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