Pretzel girl

 

so many abandoned dance classes

just so I could one day learn to do the

fucking jig of life

so many layers of socks

just so I could one day fill your shoes

and what of it?

what of it.

 

I held my sneezes, swallowed my yawns

and scrubbed your floor in sunday clothes

 

hands deep down in the bucket with

duty fingers wrinkled

nails grave-digger dirtied

for nothing, but for everything.

 

I’ve been twisted and torn

into the shape of knowing better.

this body barren of anger,

this life delicious cake frosting,

   light as a feather.