Tuesday, June 3, 2014

48 toward the Omer

I look forward to the trampoline to come, feeling my feet held by you among black fire words before they release me up again like a person throwing a dove from her cupped hands into the air with a soft push for encouragement, trajectory, instruction for the alonetimes

Maybe that's why we're supposed to take our shoes off in holy spaces, so it's easier to notice the caress, the slight bounce. Why wear clothing before you, God? Help me remove this raincoat, these galoshes, I didn't mean them, I'm not sure how they even got there

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