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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