while you're designing the future
and twisting and bending
all the things that
should go straight,
let me suggest:
bend me.
shape me into one who's
smile paints a dusty floor
a zodiac of brillant color;
mold me into a spire of care
that cuddles the hurting
and with a Medussa mop-head
of Caress i can salve the lost.

why not?

the past has left me
enervated and helpless;
i'm Prometheus being devoured
by the daily trudge of lives--gone awry,
and like a fawn i'm tagged
with their angst and suffering
and their pain is mine,
we both become desheveled.

in moments i can find
my centering point and
it's a reunion that
leaves me wanting,
for wispy are they
and i'm left with
a mere imprint on my
soul.

01/18/2006