hod shebchesed
Dry near the muddy edge
of the water above them
I do not want to
tell myself for my sake
or I am but ashes
I reach both hands down
toward the thin creased pieces
of parchment my fingers find
nothing it seems that someone
did not see fit to
give women pockets but I
cannot wait for man or
manna to judge my worth
I choose splendor and humble
find my tambourine move my
feet stumble dance creating dust
No comments:
Post a Comment