Thursday, August 25, 2011

Marks

Marks

With a pencil, marking where the head
of a person is now, so they can turn
and see how low they once stood.

With the plastic lid of a fountain soda
and a thumb to dimple one of three
small hills, indicating if the drink
is diet, cola, or other.

With a key, the jagged calligraphy
of initials scraped into a park bench.

With carpet and a toe, tracing arcs
in the fibers by keeping the body
in place and rotating the leg
around it, like a compass.

With tight clothing pressing its seams
into your skin, Frankensteining your belly
and thighs when you undress.

With the sun and your weakness,
the inkwell of melanin you offer,
and a flicked brush.

With an arm and a cat who doesn’t
want to be held.

With feet passing through the grass,
stifling it, and inventing a path.

With a doorknob and the wall it backs into.


7 comments

  1. "Frankensteining your belly" made me laugh Hannah.

    Have a beautiful day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This has to be my favorite...until the next one! Ahhhh!

    ReplyDelete
  3. And the poem written, the page torn off, leaving a ghost poem on the next page!

    ReplyDelete
  4. This is really nice one.. i liked the way it written , plain and simple.. nicely written

    ReplyDelete
  5. "With carpet and a toe, tracing arcs
    in the fibers by keeping the body
    in place and rotating the leg
    around it, like a compass."


    "With feet passing through the grass,
    stifling it, and inventing a path."

    Bravo, wondrous!

    Inventing a path--what great wording.

    ReplyDelete

The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.