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Touched without touch
Savoring lack
Sweetly
Mourning a possibility
This glimpse of a fawn on the edge of a glade
captivates
Bushman sucks water from buried
springs through a reed to store in ostrich
eggs for the miles home
Bushman balances a toe
on the tip of a star,
somersaults to land
two solid feet
in moon dust,
hooks his ankles
around the lip
of a crater scar of meteor
colliding thickened by unsympathetic
galaxial abrading wounded
flesh into reptilian
leather cord trapeze
Kalahari dancer swings through the stratosphere
to whisper in earthbound auricle, Be the fawn.
copyright 2005
Melissa
Fischer |
