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.