olymp.A Poem by h d e rushin
44% of gold medal recipients sing along with their national anthem. 13% cry.
Most of the women cry; I need to figure out what this means.
Does it mean that I shouldn't cry if I run up the icy steps
or lift the cat box, heavy with pee? Or laugh the anamorata laugh
when I stretch my elbows out or brush the hairs on the side of my head
contrary to age as if the wind blew me bakwards?
And how can I wave at Dad with his bones fertilizing the hills?
And what can be syncronized about mix-matched socks
or the mouse I tried to stomp or the baleful ink-pens
that hide from me when the lesson is profound?
In my bathroom, where all beauty is, bathos as a soft sheer fabric,
the silk leaf that holds all medals hold my soap on a rope. © 2012 h d e rushinReviews
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3 Reviews Added on August 10, 2012 Last Updated on August 10, 2012 Author
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