Whirligig 6

6 Whirl.jpg

Feeble and pestilent
I surrender my hollows,
my breath, my mysticism.
I will not apologize
for making a gift of your smile.

My purple skirt skims the breeze
twenty and filled with consolatory guile
my head hangs like an overladen donkey.
Ignorance is not a explanation
only an avenue to armistice.
(Why can’t you forgive?)

Southward and counting
who will claim me now
that I have abandoned everything?
My soiled hands lean,
an earthenware heart,
a conspicuous fracture
injustice is offensively swift.

I am pretty distracted these days and everything feels like a rough draft

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8 responses to “Whirligig 6

  1. I can’t say it often enough–whether you’re distracted, busy, posting a “draft”, it all comes out pulsing with life and is stellar, 5-Star. The first stanza is my fave, along with “earthenware heart”–only because I like to choose something to remark on 🙂

      • Well, it’s so true–when I read your little notes about how you’re feeling “off” in some way, I think, “Shoot! I should be so lucky and gifted to write like that when I’m not 100%!” I know it’s supposed to motivate us when we admire someone who consistently writes Spectacularly…but I gave up long ago trying to be as good as you…too much sweating involved 🙂

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