I see birds fly
from this concrete predicament
faces in ****** hands
I hurt and I cry
my hands are wet
trapped
on Pilates plateau
a place where bugs die.

You called me beautiful
And my smile is still here

I can touch my stability with the end of my pinky finger.
It dances on fishing string or careful drops in shallow water.
A deep breath in or a flick of my finger could upset the balance,
Sending me swinging again.