INHERITANCE
- Monthly Issue Contributor

- Jul 25, 2025
- 1 min read
Updated: Jul 26, 2025
By: Gracie Jones
JULY 2025 ISSUE
POETRY
Editor: Trevor Cunnington

I mourn the shell I shed,
the cracked edges of grief, replaced
as I wear yours as a second-skin
which fits—
with lingers of mine beneath.
In silence, my syllables fade into yours
as they call me by your name.
A label that I adopted
laying in your nest
with borrowed feathers
and dust of those fallen.
Our children watch me dispose
of my loose skin.
You will always stay. The nest, yours
as another bird
takes your name, and whose
name hides in the branch-bark.

Gracie Jones
Gracie Jones is a writer and poet from Gloucestershire, England. She has recently completed her BA Creative Writing Degree at the University of Gloucestershire and has had multiple poems published.
House of Grief

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