Sunday, February 14, 2010

Ankle’s Pioneers

I followed them
I didn’t know where
were going I just knew
seemed to have a plan and
had an empty space and
an unmarked map
that said
I should follow

about halfway through
they abandoned shoes
not to be bound
by the sound of their
(souls) slapping against pavement

(I think it broke their tender hearts)

naked though, they were
flesh wound over bones, sculpted
perfect arc(he)s and slopes
dipping and rising
toes proudly pointing to the sky
the winding lines
(their internal rivers)
purple made green under
the skin that only the day before
I had called my own

Liberated by their new
sensitivity to
touch I think they moved
more gracefully or pointedly
or gracefully pointed
(not pointedly graceful)
and texture became a member
of our investigative party

So sure of themselves
I looked
away from them, distracted
And I realized
(they) abandoned (me)
as I was startled by
a stumble
and I looked down
and I was whole again
and they were gone

(I do not forget our seperation
but something tells me not to try to recreate it.)

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