the line.
When I was towing the line, I was noble,
then. I walked with a puffed chest and
cricked my neck in new directions.
Suffered, but we all; diminution shrugged
at the absurdity of the thinness of veils.
When I wore black to the picnic, not turtle-
neck but fedora and overcoat, reminiscent of
sad sets of swaddling clothes, draping with
additional weight, and shaped separateness
from when I was a witch.
a few children through stones.
but that, was just how I felt in that moment.
In truth I’d worn white, accommodating guests
Barely concerning myself with awkward glances
Or the intentions I chose not to test. My Christ
gauntlet draped low and expanded before eager
rodents smelling the treats for their ordeal.
they jumped right in.
I followed behind, I was holding the reigns and
curious to whether they’d find a track from this
distancing maze, trickery with it’s cardboard
slates laid out and characteristic hard swiss chips
only at one end. We raced.
At some points, disagreements pertained to left’s
or tunnels and two of three mice would concede and
breathing a hundred times a minute bleed through their
nostrils at the chunk of success waiting for the first one
through the gate.
I might never sense my time in that cage, deliver myself
conciliatory pages of “chin ups” and anonymous sex
but when I was new, and a goodfellow, I’d balance
on ropes, and speak with my eyes, and contemplate trees
whirling on toadstools chanting a prayer and answering
the queen.
When I was walking the line.
then. I walked with a puffed chest and
cricked my neck in new directions.
Suffered, but we all; diminution shrugged
at the absurdity of the thinness of veils.
When I wore black to the picnic, not turtle-
neck but fedora and overcoat, reminiscent of
sad sets of swaddling clothes, draping with
additional weight, and shaped separateness
from when I was a witch.
a few children through stones.
but that, was just how I felt in that moment.
In truth I’d worn white, accommodating guests
Barely concerning myself with awkward glances
Or the intentions I chose not to test. My Christ
gauntlet draped low and expanded before eager
rodents smelling the treats for their ordeal.
they jumped right in.
I followed behind, I was holding the reigns and
curious to whether they’d find a track from this
distancing maze, trickery with it’s cardboard
slates laid out and characteristic hard swiss chips
only at one end. We raced.
At some points, disagreements pertained to left’s
or tunnels and two of three mice would concede and
breathing a hundred times a minute bleed through their
nostrils at the chunk of success waiting for the first one
through the gate.
I might never sense my time in that cage, deliver myself
conciliatory pages of “chin ups” and anonymous sex
but when I was new, and a goodfellow, I’d balance
on ropes, and speak with my eyes, and contemplate trees
whirling on toadstools chanting a prayer and answering
the queen.
When I was walking the line.