TheFeatheredSleep – A fox and more
Hear how the fox festoons dusk
With larkish bark the color of a young girls best pitch
And how
Bathed in sweat I consider mortalities strange lyre
The photos of parts of me transposed and caught in time
Nothing is real and all is magnified by the mind
As she weaves her dream about our smoky heads
Tiptoeing over slate roof tops like ballerina forced to cat burgle
In this sliver of reality I choose
To disguard any mantle of victimhood
In imperfect slices of myself I have survived
Nothing will tear me down, save the last licorice root before tree fall
I have played acquiescences tuneless keys long enough
This is what growing up feels like at any age
The acceptance, not all is well or right yet
If I look, I know my worth
I’ll not give it away to appease those who seek
Through their own brokenness…
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