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Song of Self #10
Lean muscle ripples transparent surface.
 Sparks of liquid splash and spot the sizzling concrete
 Waves morph white cotton candy clouds above as tile bounces golden rays below.
 The run of liquid caressing, filing, swishing.
 Toned arms slicing choppy pool 
 Flaming muscles burn for rest
 Thirsty lungs gasp for air
 Body curls into a flip and leads the final lap 
 
 Splat!
 Skin chilled in the outline of goo.
 Heavy mud splattered my back and speckled my face and spotted my arms and congealed my hair 
 Oh great, here comes anoth… Splat!
 Squishy mud between decorated toes
 Georgia red wetness highlighting knees and below
 Splat!
 Reaching for a handful to fly 
 Then unfolding up for…
 Splat! Right in the ear.
 She’ll get it for that one.
 Bam! …Tackled!
 Elbows painted with mud too
 Splat! Splat! Splat!
 Flinging, slinging, pitching.
 Mud sings across open air toward unsuspecting faces 
 As the battle grows, expands, intensifies
 Ruined shirt caked dry
 Splat!
 Denying a mother’s call to help clean, rake, beautify the yard
 Splat!
 In fear of getting dirty 
 
 Muggy, sweltering, moist Costa Rica evening
 Last night of the youth camp
 Everyone boistering fun songs. Joyous, crazy, blissful songs. 
 One newly saved boy, hand motions memorized, flows the movements along with me and the echo of music, enjoying himself.
 Until he marks the eyes of friends mocking, poking, cutting him for his freshly found joy.
 His rhythm halts and his tune falters.
 My gaze captures his and mails a melody of confidence.
 A heart song forever encouraged by a smile. 
 
 Skin pudging over pants portraying good health.
 Then high school capsizes the confident image
 And writes it ugly, fat, unlovable, worthless.
 So first, delectables denied and refreshments refused.
 The tire around the waist flattens
 World’s ideal body form 
 No need to continue withdrawing, cutting, denying
 But a crashing whirlpool already spinning, swirling, sucking. 
 Now snacks shunned and meals missed.
 Flat tummy becomes concaved skeleton. 
 Middle casing of bone counts 12.
 Legs lose power 
 And shoulders slice skin.
 A once-stunning girl distorted, mutated, warped to a jumble of connected marrow.
 
 A soundless hallway loses to a hacking cough through a door at the end
 Granddaddy glides in and raises Grandmamma from soft pillows. 
 And probes for aches or pains
 And comforts her weak hand with a pat
 And sidles words into her ear
 And plants gentle lips on her temple
 And offers chilled water
 Slight, shallow sips launch another coughing hysteria.
 Recognition slivers into a distant, confused, adrift gaze
 Garbled sounds escape between wilted lips hinted with rose 
 Goodbye with an embrace and an “I love you”
 Wondering, hoping, praying for more.
 But knowing, recognizing, mourning the loss soon to come,
 As a well-lived,
 well-loved life 
 slips 
 
 beneath 
 
 
  the 
 
 
     surface.
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