(no subject)
It might be enough, ripped newsprint, scraps playmaking
reconstruction, rebirthing, a halo fashioned from a wire
coat hanger, the suggestion of a tip, as if in flight or hat.
On the balance, in the scale, it might be enough, shaping
the last obstruction, new spring, the Easter lamb you
never were -- helix defending first born son. Hyphenated.
I could be equal to it, but torn and defenseless, scrapped
after consideration, my feet pressing onto the ink as if distinct,
my name unpronounceable, while you fold the pages, stitch
them as a saddle, as if to bind, as if to prepare to ride, your
narrative galloping across the page -- as I am sky-pinned, never
new, never rising to my shaky feet on the April morning's dew.
reconstruction, rebirthing, a halo fashioned from a wire
coat hanger, the suggestion of a tip, as if in flight or hat.
On the balance, in the scale, it might be enough, shaping
the last obstruction, new spring, the Easter lamb you
never were -- helix defending first born son. Hyphenated.
I could be equal to it, but torn and defenseless, scrapped
after consideration, my feet pressing onto the ink as if distinct,
my name unpronounceable, while you fold the pages, stitch
them as a saddle, as if to bind, as if to prepare to ride, your
narrative galloping across the page -- as I am sky-pinned, never
new, never rising to my shaky feet on the April morning's dew.