the grave

won’t find me

–ever bind me

pristine to its shroud…

I’ll go all bruised

–and scarred, I choose

to live my life out loud.

My legs off-road

my hands just holds

for fishing poles or Frisbees

my arms reach high

to catch that fly

but chances are it missed me.

Diana’s eye

is mine

when I

fit a bow to shaft

the bull is

→→pierced→→

with eyesight fierce

a vision before draft.

I’m ATV

~with cage~

but

*free*

skip stones–I never roll ’em,

I bike terrain

extreme, but tame

a fearless, try-it, woman.

No way

I’m goin’

taggin’ to’in’

any unused parts

I’ll play my hardest

’til the stardust

claims me

back

to

Art.

©Karen Robiscoe