Saturday, November 24, 2012

"What It Does" Draft 2 (one or two words changed)

What It Does

More than anything,
I cry for freedom--

more than for white
frosting or dark chocolate,
money or a task-driven
nature. More than
for antidepressants,
anxiety medication
and pain pills, even
more than for feeling
a milkweed bursting
with gossamer and the sticky
stuff that connects fingers
to a fine, physical world
whispering, "Feel me."

I think it was the mandatory
handwashing that did it,
the hose that marked
my ungluing, water
pressure propelling me,
uprooted, ungrounded,
separated from even one
stray seed stuck to a sweater cuff,
me, spurted into a void
of metal and mixed messages.

They clank the jail doors
shut.  "Let's see you
get out of this one," they gloat.


copyright 2012, 
Katherine M. Gotthardt.
All rights reserved.
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