SheFallsSoftly

I write that she looks up
And where her face should
Move elegantly arched
Along with my pen,
Nothing moves.
“She steps forward,”
I write. She sits.
“She smiles,”
I write. She stares.
“She laughs,”
I write. She’s still.
I lift her from under the arms
All dead weight,
And move with her.
I tuck in her elbows,
Lift up her chest.
She walks on my feet,
I, unseen,
guide her arms
Hoping that the swing
Is convincing.
My attempt
To wear her body
Like a glove
Leaves her joints all clacking
Gracelessly slack,
Violently erect…
She looks unnatural
And I feel less human
for guiding her.
Do the arms swing
left with left
or left with right
when walking?
Second-guessing,
I stumble through
Kicking and cursing
And push her off of me.

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 13th, 2007 at 11:44 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.