Poised (Poetry)
04th December 2011
She is up on the roof — sampling
the quality of air —
fifteen floors up and sitting on the edge
peering down on a world of ant-people
and their coloured boxes streaming
through the streets.
They are out of her reach —
she is too high for them to touch —
they do not notice her
or imagine her — the way her body leans
over — how her balance shifts
with the pull of gravity that defies
her wish to fly.
The sun pats her back —
gentle with its giant hand
soothing but with no favourites
warms all things —
strokes the grubbiest of stones
lingers on blemishes.
The city is a rambling nest — an enormous heap
of scurry — hurry — worry dawn to dusk
and she’s above all that — removed —
out on a limb she has become
her own quiet cloud who shapes herself
poised in readiness to test
the scientific theory with her weight.
the quality of air —
fifteen floors up and sitting on the edge
peering down on a world of ant-people
and their coloured boxes streaming
through the streets.
They are out of her reach —
she is too high for them to touch —
they do not notice her
or imagine her — the way her body leans
over — how her balance shifts
with the pull of gravity that defies
her wish to fly.
The sun pats her back —
gentle with its giant hand
soothing but with no favourites
warms all things —
strokes the grubbiest of stones
lingers on blemishes.
The city is a rambling nest — an enormous heap
of scurry — hurry — worry dawn to dusk
and she’s above all that — removed —
out on a limb she has become
her own quiet cloud who shapes herself
poised in readiness to test
the scientific theory with her weight.