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Posted by ssenizarc on August 12, 19100 at 06:40:29:
watercolor
She puts her shirt on backwards
every morning
and runs out the door
with a backpack she could fit in
if only she’d stayed in gymnastics
long enough to learn how to
fold-herself-in-half
and maybe she falls out of
every tree she climbs
just to feel the rough bark
slipping through her desperate
fingertips
panicking in fear that
this might be the time she
breaks her neck
what she later recognizes as hope
or disappointment
she walks past buses and stone pillars
and thinks about the granules of concrete
that would be embedded in
her knees and the palms of her hands
if she crawled on the sidewalk
realizing briefly that the underside of her
discolored legacy
is a pale blue
This poem is something I wrote a while ago> I'm posting it in the hopes that someone will read it.