lyra.

June 18, 2017

flexibility beautifully softens
cold steel of the aerial hoop
like the moon’s scythe
is bent by reflected light


lyra encircling me
cradling gently as a rib cage holds the heart
trust broken      i’d fall too far
balanced cannot be regained

 

my hands grasp surely for spansets
nylon testing new calluses
chalk dust leaves powdered handprints
like fossilized sugar

 

i release upside down

ankles flexed raw against metal
focus narrows
intensity leaves no room for confusion






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