Pilates Instructor

Pilates Instructor

The phone rings and I wonder if she’s calling from her hands and knees

Or could it be tippy-toes, where she dances tightrope round his moods?

I’m standing up straight and in no mood to bend, ever again.

I close my eyes and meditate to angels losing faith

And wish I could fix her halo.

Downward dog; he’d let her urinate before sucking up his pride

Calling her a lying cheat for things she’d never hide.

He follows her in spite, watching her jump and spin, repeat

And makes promises he has no intention keep.

The phone rings and I wonder if she’s calling from that place again

Or could it be that now she’s free, allowed to be?

I’m lying in the grass, winking at the sun.

I stretch to take it in, reminding myself to keep my mouth shut:

Head spun. “Angels are angels.”

She sleeps with a man who’d teach his sons to rape

Waking up to punches in the face:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Times she’ll go back. Her soul she gave away.

Seven deadly sins, negate:

Heaven is what waits. She turns away.

The phone rings and I wonder if she’s calling from Mars or Mercury

How to speak from planet Earth, whenever will she see?

Venus.

She’s curled up into a ball. Purgatory.

I’m standing up straight, reminding myself to have faith:

Differentiate. “You have a different fate.”

I close my eyes and meditate of angels finding their wings

And wish I could throw her strength.

Someday.

Reviews

[Me]

well composed and an expressive write.