of a woman

 

evening light goes

feet cold

and Tracy sings

and i lean in

and consider my core

and what is it but a song,

a story of muscle

            of bone

            and insistence

of gravity and other pulls such as desire,

             pain

             light

            melody

            and memory

 

what else is it but

            the leavetaking of a day

            the end of a beginning

            a breath held or

            a long ride in a fast car

 

wherein you find me

counting backwards

watching the sun down and

the birds defying all that holds me here:

            insistent

            driven

            and anticipatory

 

what is this, my core:

woven, distracted and shining

forever seeking the ridiculous and

sometimes considering the wow:

this light core

this fleet-footed engine

at the heart of this self-inflicted mystery

of a woman

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