Have you ever
jumped rope
skipped into the
belly of the swing
while two twirl
ended
poised on the
front of your toe forward
and one back
ready to spring
and pantomimed
your hands round
like an open
palmed mantra
counting the
smack
until you leap
Coming home is
like that
somehow outside
the rhythm
you rock yourself
ready and jump
but if your
timing is out
the rope will
neck or ankle you
and suddenly you
are kneeskinned
on the bitumen
drug headed and reeling
and every familiar
thing seems impossible
but you get up
and try it again
because you know
that somewhere
there is a way
back into the oscillation of your life
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