Across the TABLE,
Shadows dance to METER
Heard only by me
In an EMPTY hall

Georg’ann

How did I LEARN to carry myself with POISE,
to glide gracefully into rooms
without knocking into the door jam,
proprioception as altered as my sense of self.

When did I stop stooping as if shrinking could protect me?
Or were my shoulders simply bent forward
under the weight of what they carried?

What is this transformation, no less miraculous
than than a caterpillar becoming a butterfly,
that allows me to flutter, delicately land
on beauty, suck in the nectar.
My WEEPY eyes softly seeking,
An EMPTY cocoon hanging just over there

Heather