A single leg. A signature.
Across the sand I sifted
like a bag of flour
to fit the pies of all the times
you baked me with your eyes.
laces always tied
so no one else would trip and fall.
Meaning well an Easter egg
you painted with a nervous smile.
Tragedy you'd sooner roll
beneath the couch
and never wander near.
lining all the days and nights.
Ego's turtle on its back.
And then the ink of candor's pen.
In colors I had never known.
The spatula that scraped my tears
and spread them in the cracks.
The 2River View, 2_2 (Winter 1998)