Motion Blur

I smudged your edges
And blurred your rough spots.
I trimmed the harshness from your tongue.

You pushed me on the swingset,
Charging half-moon, legs pumping.
Gravity gets lost in the air,
Cutting a tunnel through space.

And in the end I let my feet dangle,
Mulch in my shoes, little angry trees,
Dead bees on mangy skin,
Your hand on my shoulder, fingers like hardened burrowing animals in the joint.

Clean cut and sharp-dressed you are now,
A dirty dressing over a clean cut tonight.


~ by SimmerSnow on January 2, 2012.

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