The days when I could grasp life around the hips
(and hang on as she strode through sunburnt suburbia,
keeping bare feet free of puddles and chalk)
were long surrendered when my legs lengthened
into those restlessly swinging stalks
that grew down just to kick up their roots
at the possibility of roads vibrantly unfamiliar
from what they've known.
Once soft sapwood, all pliant and green
we had no wit to appreciate these pains and aches
as muscles break, tear with every step and repair themselves
only to creak the next day in protest and celebration,
each smile born of fear and exultation.
This is my new way to feel contained and stable:
as I grab your hand and slip under the library table.
There, hush sound is our breathing deep to laugh
harder and stronger, silent and crouching alive together
here, our legs feel like heartwood, the sturdy stuff
that only softens to ash when our stomachs catch fire.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
The days when I could grasp life around the hips
(and hang on as she strode through sunburnt suburbia,
keeping bare feet free of puddles and chalk)
were long surrendered when my legs lengthened
into those restlessly swinging stalks
that grew down just to kick up their roots
at the possibility of roads vibrantly unfamiliar
from what they've known.
Once soft sapwood, all pliant and green
we had no wit to appreciate these pains and aches
as muscles break, tear with every step and repair themselves
only to creak the next day in protest and celebration,
each smile born of fear and exultation.
This is my new way to feel contained and stable:
as I grab your hand and slip under the library table.
There, hush sound is our breathing deep to laugh
harder and stronger, silent and crouching alive together
here, our legs feel like heartwood, the sturdy stuff
that only softens to ash when our stomachs catch fire.
