I’m so well- balanced

I ride a unicycle,

so poised

I carry an airhorn,

so stable

I’m often

mistaken

for

a unicorn.

 
You curl in my lap

needing my legs

waiting for me to Rise

our coldness converges

in negative warmth

my robe is yours
 
 
your claws the scythes

that divide it

you hiss

growl

and stalk

ad infinitum

but do you purr?

©Karen Robiscoe

sentences are braids

word weaves that try to net life

but misses capture

 
I was playing

tic

-tac

—toe

he was playing

/ hopscotch
 
 
 
I was connecting

X’s,

he was throwing

stones,

I was looking for

loopholes,

he was skipping

squares,

sick of grid,

& shoot…

ladders, too,

we

switched to

hide & seek…

confusing rules

with

freeze

tag,

I waited for It

(and dreaded It)

and wanted to be It

(and wanted to run from It)

when all along

It

…

I-t

(tuh)

…

It

was

ally

ally

all come free.

 
you ought to bow your head.

your face is untied, & you

wouldn’t want to

trip on that flapping tongue

…

your soul worn so thin in places

it’d be easy enough to do

scuffing the fine details

of the

whole shoo

–platform and all–

on your way down.

 
if you wanna be leg•it…

you gotta walk the talk!
 
 
(sashay bone’s connected to she-say bone)

drop shoe &

wiggle

piggies

(7 or 11 for that new pair of shoes)

toeing the line

talk walked

knees knock more often than opportunity,

and jerks, too, so relax

(it’s hip)

reflexes

(kickin’ and screamin’)

and

re•boot

don’t mirror,

reflect inwardly,

(don’t head•trip)

and walk through fire…