Sunday, September 4, 2016

Turn

Inside out and no wonder my hide itches.
There is a legless man parked in his wheelchair
On the corner of 16th and Broad
He longs to join the ranks of morning
He sits unseen amidst the roar of 9 am.
“Have a nice day”, scrawled on cardboard.
There is a ragged pigeon dashing
For asphalt warmed bagel scraps
among Subaru and Volvo, she
never missed a crumb.

Rerun is what I long for, so I
Flip through a collection of summer
wedding shots, basin of daydream.
Bittersweet, my confidence grows a tail
Sometimes fanned in grand display
sometimes curled around low lying limb
swinger in black and white cotton.
Blue tips in my curls. I recall the deep kisses
 how we all cheered, how the flower girls floated behind a shower of petals –
Then there were only owls and we crooned for dusk.

Not womb alone, let the matrons meddle!
No heart to be apart and their river has grown wide and swift.
My flight home is a nice diversion from
the scattered nest which has spun its own love light.
I drop into reminisce, how sweet the afternoon breeze
How gathered into the last tucks of summer
a meadow shimmering with crickets and moonlight.
Was it hemlock or steel pole that steadied me
to cheer Mazel Tov! and mean it.
I am the legless one that followed his dreams,
and I finally turn my skin outside in again.

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