Poem #61 of 365

She skims the carpet as she steps
and it occurs to consider
that there may be no footprints
once she has passed

But not because she does
not leave an impression
as we know she always does,
leaving us awed in her wake

Like a ship's figurehead
she has certainly charted miles
and sometimes troubled waters
yet she seems innocent from her travels

Until we hear her speak
which in her bassoon alto voice
becomes more like chanted
morse code than actually talking

And we are coaxed and
metamorphed into her galaxy
of vowels and her stories of
pills, multicolored as anime,
a delicious cinema
of non sequitur tales

We reach for her words as
freefalling petals without nets
hoping to piece together her
blossoms, remaking the bouquet
of her invincibility.

Stay strong, little sister,
as strong as the thunderclaps
of laughter that emit
from your crystal robinsbreast soul.


(para Tonzi, con todo respeto---for more info on my dear hermanita-en-poesia, go here. )


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez