lost in age and gender
role and goal
sitting sometimes
next to the mudslide of algae
she sculpted
transcended year after year
season after season
into the island it is now
her island in the city
always too loud
lilly pads sprout up
ask where they are
so rare in this vicinity
fish circle her
sometimes
but not as much as the bark
the moon, Luna, howls near by
with a bite that put the other one down
modestly, shamefully
we will always feel guilty
a splinter, a toothpick hangs from her mouth
she looks nervous
her teeth almost grinding
she looks calm
her eyes close and feel the sun
they squint too tight
and she moves to the shade
checks the watch on her belt loop
picks with the splinter
and these soft teeth came from her
these thighs didn’t
not these legs
only this year did she begin to feel old
wishing she could move rocks like she used to
pondering the boulder from her stomach
sometimes she plays the piano
and cries
the ivory battered
striking her fingers
talking back
and i’ve listened
danced sang hummed along
one long song
the end not concrete
variations of the same story
she thinks this way
this is amazing. it's one of the most beautiful things i have ever read. i loved it, it's incredible alison. keep writing. amazing. amazing.
ReplyDeleteThis is just really honest and great.
ReplyDelete