Neither One Nor Two
I am a child
Who finds them self framed in the afternoon sun.
Static fibre of rough carpet on knees and elbows
With bare feet tucked into my belly.
I am linen
Pinned to twine lines.
Mimicking moth wings in porch light
Dancing the waltz with the wind.
I’m am a flame
Licking the bones of dry birch.
Swimming up to meet the sky
Piercing glass eyes with smoke.
I am grandfathers hand
Calloused and scared
Dry against my supple palm
That offers reassurance in a messy world.
But most of all,
I am a body.
Multiplicities leak out
From hands and eyes and ears.
What a burden
To be ashamed of such beautiful catastrophe.