A Bending of Bones
supple stretching,
back bends,
hand stands
cartwheels,
the broken ones
heal
in an instant
subtle creaks,
a stiff uncurling
sitting to standing
standing to sitting,
a bit more unsure
of their places
in the body
scraping against
one another,
calcium on calcium,
as if they’ve forgotten
how to act;
they sniff out rain
and complain
when it comes
My Inside-Out Voice at the Local Mall
I don’t want a sample
of that lotion;
I don’t want to stand
in front of your little kiosk
and listen to you herald
the virtues of anti-aging
anything.
I don’t want clumsy people
pushing past me, bumping
my shoulder without so much
as a pardon me, ma’am;
I can’t breathe with the lights
bearing down from every angle;
sale signs, buy-one-get-one,
reds tags, yellow tags,
faceless mannequins,
wearing cashmere, arms akimbo;
Stop. Everyone. Just. Stop.
I’ll retreat, throw up the white flag,
gladly surrender my seat
in the commercial arena,
trade it all for a soft suede couch
in a half-lit room
full of plants and books.
I am my own oasis.
I am my own.
Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio, teaches English for Clark State College, and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling and never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). Arvilla’s favorite quote in the whole word is: "It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau. To learn more, visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/
supple stretching,
back bends,
hand stands
cartwheels,
the broken ones
heal
in an instant
subtle creaks,
a stiff uncurling
sitting to standing
standing to sitting,
a bit more unsure
of their places
in the body
scraping against
one another,
calcium on calcium,
as if they’ve forgotten
how to act;
they sniff out rain
and complain
when it comes
My Inside-Out Voice at the Local Mall
I don’t want a sample
of that lotion;
I don’t want to stand
in front of your little kiosk
and listen to you herald
the virtues of anti-aging
anything.
I don’t want clumsy people
pushing past me, bumping
my shoulder without so much
as a pardon me, ma’am;
I can’t breathe with the lights
bearing down from every angle;
sale signs, buy-one-get-one,
reds tags, yellow tags,
faceless mannequins,
wearing cashmere, arms akimbo;
Stop. Everyone. Just. Stop.
I’ll retreat, throw up the white flag,
gladly surrender my seat
in the commercial arena,
trade it all for a soft suede couch
in a half-lit room
full of plants and books.
I am my own oasis.
I am my own.
Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio, teaches English for Clark State College, and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling and never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). Arvilla’s favorite quote in the whole word is: "It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau. To learn more, visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/