Shit Happens

Thursday, January 27, 2005

On Feet (more poetry)

On Feet


Mine are apart, unruly
children circling
in individual rosies. Painted
in soft pink swirls and gold
glitter flecks, they flicker bedroom
lights, circulating stale air. Clicking
like an old fan.

Tied thighs. Tangled bedroom
hair. They dance above
our heads, twirling, twisting in
frustration.

Knotted necklace links parted
by slender fingers, long nails, and
patience. Thighs spread, they flutter
awkwardly outward. Butterflies
escaping a loose knit net. Drawing
lax rings across the ceiling, they become
comical. Domesticated animals facing
freedom. The space between can be measured
in inches or
breaths.

Seperated, they dull. The two not quite
alike, dizzying to compare. A victim’s attempted
description. Scared
and lost, panicking apart. The separation
of mother and child.

Placed together, they
walk away.

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