Bruised from bumps, thumps delivered by inanimate objects
to thighs above my two left feet, unable to keep the beat
in life’s daily dance. Senseless rhythms, tune wreckers, heat up
my blood, blush my self-conscious cheeks as I collide, uncorrected
on my maverick trajectory. Even my fingers stumble, imprecise
in movement, unsure of what’s expected to complete a simple task.
Space separates self and other, I cannot judge the gap. I waver
too near, too far, tricked by poor proprioception. Clumsy,
I long to flow beyond ungainly knocks and breakage. Reach you
in a graceful twirl across the room, ballet steps in slippered feet,
aiming true, butterflied, to kiss, not miss, your mobile mouth.
Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in 2017.
Image: via Pixabay
The Cabinet of Heed 