She swings her arms
they go over her head, knuckles first
they go below her knees, palms now.
She dusts the morning
wiping the corners where
the night catches she
wipes her eyes
stares into the clouds
to fill the whites and
drain the blacks
of their dream bath
murky with stillness.
June 12, 2010
1 comment:
I love this––especially the following lines:
"She dusts the morning
wiping the corners where
the night catches she
wipes her eyes"
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