… I am?


I am purple and a

Circle which is blue

But my knees are purple.

 

Knees aren’t heads

Or eyes;

They can’t see where

They’re going,

Over the hill or

Into an upper window.

They just have to bend

Just right to make it

Down the hill or

Up the stairs or

Across the desert.

Once I was

A cheap bedside table

Used and ending up

Broken.

Now I’m

A fragile metal bed frame,

Creaking with uncertainty.

As a hand

I’m reaching upward

Following the bubbles

In a green-grey water

Trying not to drown

But dusty light streaks…

Pierce through.

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