• author
    • Stacey Robinson

      Blogger
    • March 24, 2014 in Bloggers

    Slipping into fluid grace

    There are times,

    minutes and hours,

    Days even –

    though I’m sure not a week;

    Weeks stretch into forever –

    Farther,

    Further

    than I care to stretch

    (If I cared to stretch at all)

     

    Which I do not.

     

    But there are these moments

    of attenuated togetherness:

    Compact and flush,

    short bursts of

     

    Fitting.

     

    Fitting in –

    into –

    within

    my head,

    my skin.

    And that prickly,

    sticky,

    porcupine feel

    that carries me

    in its well-trodden

    tracks,

    its death-gripped grasp

    (its lovely)

    (intimate)

    (familiar grasp)

     

    Slips.

     

    And for a moment,

    that moment,

    I fit.

     

    And I breathe,

    For those moments –

    hours –

    minutes or days,

    I leap –

     

    And I dance

    on the head of a pin,

    Sleek and lithe,

    all fluid grace –

    until I fall

    again.

    Floating,

    Feckless,

     

    Earthbound.

     

    And the prickly

    sticky

    porcupine feel,

    the death-gripped

    grasp of gravity

    welcomes me home

    With a kiss.

     

     

     



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