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The Teeter Totter
by Kristina Woodhillhe is teetering on legs, oh, so determined
she is leaning into years that stretch and pull,
just out of reach
there are numbers on the wall
digits doubling, nails crawl -
separating papered flowers at the seams
the line upon the ground is long and searching
for the balance act that T's at angles
only right can win
the windmills of loosed arms
flail for flight's escape from harm
seeking runway lights that flash and twirl within
and the duck is born with wings
and walks on water
the notches from the awl are pierced and waiting
as echoes from the hammer "tink" and "thud"
into the past
the leather belts hang swinging
from the buckle's metal hinging
and wait for cinching words that bind and last
each figure stands atop the teeter totter
each foot seeks horizontal, fearing
tippage may prevail
the grounded mind insisting
on a magnet's downward listing
as the catapult waits patiently to fling beyond the veil
and the duck is born with wings
and walks on water
05/10/2008
Posted on 05/10/2008
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 05/11/08 at 01:31 AM Wonderfully charming and entrancing, like the couple(my memory fails me, a cat and a ?) who sailed off in a green pea boat and danced under a runcible moon. Great read aloud! |
| Posted by Rusty C Arquette on 05/11/08 at 02:35 AM I keep seeing weather vanes on the white painted houses found on rural backroads...maybe it's just what I find between the lines, eh? - RCat |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 05/12/08 at 07:50 PM Loving this very much. Gentle and ponderous at once. One of your best, IMHO. Delighted. Thanks. |
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