but for a bloated belly. She

can’t conceive the wealthy.

Her happiness isn’t a commodity.


Sneaking , creaking stairs,

fear is not hiding today.

Steps gentle, but firm enough

to conceal their secret running.


Victory is,

three plastic wheels within four cement walls.

Pedal faster, faster,

winter’s glint gilding purple wrappers, thrown!


of gravity,

freed from the grocery!


Fluttery wings of waxed ceremony,

falling like confetti

Lie in testament to the speed of five,

little fingers.

Her Jaw,


in rhythmic chant,

piece after piece after piece.





Filed under Poems, on