Tonight's Poet Corner: Fluid Fingers
Fluid Fingers
by Belinda Roddie
I shudder to think of those
caught in chalk outlines, when I try to
break from the constrictions of the easel,
and the color spectrum. I have two hearts,
one fluttering female, the other murmuring
male, and what composes me are oil and vinegar,
water and wine, the residue of sidewalk art
remaining on my fingers as I scrape my identity
in rainbow hues on the hot pavement.
by Belinda Roddie
I shudder to think of those
caught in chalk outlines, when I try to
break from the constrictions of the easel,
and the color spectrum. I have two hearts,
one fluttering female, the other murmuring
male, and what composes me are oil and vinegar,
water and wine, the residue of sidewalk art
remaining on my fingers as I scrape my identity
in rainbow hues on the hot pavement.
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