Woman





In sleep walking fits of dreams she wanders on feet without toes,
unbalanced, holding her tongue. Her thoughts are a ball of twine, one end
sucked into the world. She is left to unravel mysteries alone. She leaves a
tale to follow, an end to grasp, with fingernails painted blue like the Arizona
sky.

One eye peers through a crack into unfiltered light,

Glowing-

One eye on the horizon, focused.

She sings until notes are unrecognizable. Wails of promise and potential
harmonize off key. They travel the highs and lows, straining with intention,
teeterin g on the brink of melody.

Her life-

She spies a speck of future, as the truth of now lies in a heap of
misunderstanding at her feet.

Why?

Now, a stained glass window filters light from a strained life into patterns
that give a back beat to the cadence of memory, handed down from the first
woman to the last, like brown eyes and full lips,

Breathing life and spitting fire.

copyright T. Broderick 2008