by Marsha Owens
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| Image credit: R.J. Matson / Copyright 2024 Cagle Cartoons, Inc. |
maybe not so agile as Simone
nevertheless sprints on high heels
as though they had been on her feet
forever
as though she has to hurry to catch a bus
as if to say ‘c’mon people, keep up,’
as if neighborhoods aren’t burning
and
some will avoid the uncertainty of politics
some prefer the surety of counting laps in the pool
some—like my cat—will go undercover, sleep
into oblivion
never knowing how dangerously our country wobbles,
like an ankle twisted ever so slightly,
like a gymnast unable to recover.
Marsha Owens is a retired teacher who lives and writes in Richmond, VA. Her essays and poetry have appeared in both print and online publications including The Sun, Huffington Post, Dead Mule, The New Verse News, Streetlight Anthology, and Blue Heron Review. She co-edited the poetry anthology Lingering in the Margins and her chapbook She Watered Her Flowers in the Morning is available at Finishing Line Press.
