Shownotes
Sundays on One Poem Only are reserved for the weekly recap, but since we were writing a poem a day with Write After in April, we haven’t had a break for a recap in a month. So today I’m reading a poem that perfectly encapsulates Write After. It is a cento and contains one line from each of the 30 poems shared on One Poem Only during April.
April: A Poem
Ella B. Winters
She never whispers in my ear, unfurling
to swallow my words, abandon me
when I most need her,
while the past rides shotgunsilent.
My mind is a black sand beach. My fingers
stop tracing spines. I've stopped turning
the light on. I have climbed to the top
of the very last tree, gawking
at the sky turning into a riot of gold.
Sadness presses its thumb
into my chest - a cascade
of the most unruly waves,
they sparkle in the morning sun.
Delayed and denied a day's breath,
drums prelude river current tears, draw
together the wet ravines of skin like a zip.
Observing life like Dali from below the waters,
cracked asphalt flowers, reaching
for a Mediterranean sun, stand under
the downpour. If I could
unzip my heart from skin, unleashing
perfection to fully know me, I'd choose
to embrace the perfect contradiction.
My world would be trickling water
in this moss forest, while stars are singing
to us from the cosmos - the masterpiece
I've waited my life to see. How delicately
the water ripples;
I forgive the fluidity.
Let my body be a vessel! I've got enough
words to feed the both of us.
This silence sets me free.
Contains one line from each of the 30 poems shared on the One Poem Only podcast during the April 2026 'Write After' challenge.
More from Ella B. Winters ↓
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