As published by the Trillium Literary Journal, by Kimberly Crotty.
I’m a century’s quarter lost
But not found.
A timeless lapse and a crossroads, unplowed, beaten.
Like a willow bends
The will of the wind whips me.
I’m an aimless soul, no place to begin, no discernible end.
An in-between shade, I am vaguely a hue.
To pay not much ado, certain only of uncertainty.
A broken clock is right but twice a day.
Perhaps I am broken, or need winding.
A compass is a tool, but cannot choose your way for you.
Left turn, right turn, up and down.
Willows don’t break, if their roots keep them grounded.
I have roots, but want wings
I have wings, but want roots.
Perhaps my crossroad needs plowing
All I need is a shovel.
And when I am done, my hands
Will joyfully stretch out and touch the numbers.
My compass will guide me on my way.
Chit, chat, banter, bicker, bite your tongues
Endless maladies of nonsensical melodrama
Click, clack, scuff, shuffle, hustle
Heels across the lobby
Looking for ears to bend
Whisper, whistle, wow, whoa, what?
It all starts over
Cyclic and poisonous
Don’t mind my smile
I hide behind it until you walk by
Then chuckle, cackle, crow, continue
She won’t hear us.
Hiss, glean, gab, gaping mouths
Who said that? When? To Who?
Pitter, patter, trickle down the totem pole
Crackling, fuzzy, snowballing
Words evolve like a game of telephone.
But silent stay the wise ones,
Whose phones go straight to voice-mail.
Pear shaped, square shaped, a little more to love.
Husky, heavy, a few too high above
Average, healthy, maybe for a horse!
A Clydesdale maybe (I’m just kidding of course).
Eat This, Not That! and all that’s in between,
Jenny, Trimspa, the models are so lean!
Let me tell you a thing or two about
How I came to figure a little something out.
We’re all God’s creatures; he put us on the shelf,
But you can’t feel good if you do not love yourself.
Apples, oranges, and salads cannot help.
It starts in a place that I think we all have dwelt.
Look in a mirror, and then look at it again.
Look past the image that you see,
And you will see a friend.
It’s not too hard to find them,
Excuse them if they stare.
A copycat they like to be,
From eyes, to mouth, to hair.
That freckle on your cheekbone,
That scar above your eye,
You try to run away from them
But you cannot hide.
If you want to love or find fulfillment
You can visit them for free.
Because to love or be loved for you,
You have to start with me.