poems, essays, fidgets, photos

Marsha Pomerantz

I take three steps back,
three steps forward,
align my split lips,
my heart-in-halves,
the wry divide down there.
Spine refrains from posturing;
ribs encompass minimal
                   Arms unreaching,
legs mere facts of stance,
I strive to straighten my being,
ravel a frayed brain,
condense the vapor of desire,
ascend as rain.