Here, where the surface
Cuts everything in mercurial halves,
I look at life
From both sides, now

Clouds drifting by
The sun on the water
Drawing my shadow on the ocean bed
Ink of sand, salvaged from Plato’s pen

Frail, flickering, down there
In the chicken wire of reflections
But my, how my arms are still strong
Like the legs of a young woman

Dancing, I who never danced
Hustling, I who never hustled
As if they were the only arms
In the food chain.

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  1. #1 by redgladiola on July 18, 2014 - 11:02 am

    Sometimes, a new place provides a new perspective. I felt like I was floating with you. =)

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