I exist.

I exist.
Originally uploaded by Atomic Citrocity

Striking against light to knock down
a shadow that scarcely resembles what I scarcely am:
a woman, a wisp of hair loosed from a severe braid.
Asymmetrical division of features, already loyal
to asymmetry.

Broken winged bird doesn’t need a wing, doesn’t need
flight for walking - of course not.
Air-crippled only. But something in its small body
has met the skies expanse, something knows
and so carries to hops across earth,
This Hurt. A limp can be all-encompassing.

Wings in the rafters.
The sound of someone hammering fence boards.
A train through a canyon. Slow grinding
cement trucks. Children’s balls bouncing off
house corners. The angles make chase
a practice in deductive risk
(I always missed the ball).

I can’t see any of this.
But I know the sounds.
Not where they come from …
streaming from some place
in off time gone by.
Resting in my consciousness.
Old sounds leftover from events
long under the bridge .
I respond as an echo
to these echoes.
Low and estranged from origin,
in tissue thin places of recall.

Shattered.
Spliced back together.
Tender towards all I can’t touch
which still so touches me.