By Shadygirl
Date: 16 June 2000

trampolene

I watch a storm crawl
along the shore, like crippled
Death
struggling to reach heaven's doorbell
                                    ready for release.

Little hairs stand in pointless
defense
as the dampness rapes my pores
The STENCH of (love) burns my eyes
and I find
it hard to see the
                  simplicity
of beauty, through vague lines

The ocean seems to breath, its heaving chest
promising (the way men do)
to swell enough to
                  wash me
from my brittle place in life's moment, waiting
                                               in line
and passing me by with attentive
disinterest
And I wait
eager for the attack
THRILLED to be a trampolene
trying not to wonder what makes
me
SO different.










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