Monday, September 19, 2016

corps de ballet


She dives through the air,
hanging from the light
without a safety net.
She will fall until
she finds the ground below her too far,
and doubles back.
up her invisible rope.


Laden with dew from early morning fog,
silk threads of spiderwebs hang limp and damp,
bejeweled with liquid crystals
encrusting the fragile fabric of
a woven home.


She's perched--
a queen on her
webbed throne--
life radiating out from her
succulent body,
woven into the threads that
support her abdomen,
swollen with blood.

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