Reflections on a sunday afternoon

sapphire billowing presence
pushing up against this space
freedom through confinement
curves, fit, exact placement

if only incidents were puzzle piece
snap-able
Derrida’s distance … inescapable
palpable

inhale- confine
exhale- desert me

my brown hair is beginning to devour me
forehead is gone, next – my eyes
will that make me blind?
I see too much anyways

perhaps a little ignorance
a little less discussion
a little too much thought

my bamboo axis of salvation hanging
always hopeful

where is God on this Sunday
is He the hair-
the air pushing my curtain?
or the words

perhaps the perspiration beneath my arms
…maybe not

perhaps he is in the capital letters
the words forgotten, or inappropriate
the abandoned words, the censured words

lets liberate within this

heavy arms, waste away until midnight
I’m only thinking
and feeling