I for one do not have energy
to match…
Author: A. Violet
I don’t remember
the name of the music…
the jazz only a trombone
can make
slide down the avenue…
what my legs are supposed
to feel like, now they weigh
me down with sandbags…
winds smooth
over wood, glossy
surfaces, lift…
gather your anxiety into a rock
the size of your stomach…
take the cloud into your hands,
squeeze out the sugar,
squeeze out the air…
do you ever hold still so long
you wonder if your toes
remember how to flex…
I tipped the bowl toward me
and it spilled…
pearls sewn on wedding
dresses, shining…
Daily Poets 