One Hundred and Sixty-Eight.


Izzy circle


I’ve turned myself into a perpetual motion machine
one foot after the other, powered by the hip swing
the thigh muscles pulling knees and shins into line

spindle legs tapping along the pavements
the burn of rubber and screech of eagle eyes
as the diesel machines caterwaul past


Sarah circle


Just watch me, I can do parkour like a motherfucker. See that fence? I can vault it like a gymnast. Those roofs are trampolines to my steel-sprung feet. That smoke is my staircase, those birds are my landings, the breath of spring air is my chariot ride. Fix your eyes on a star, and I’ll fetch it for you, tear it out of the sky and breathe ice out to cool it. Bring it back in my hands. Set it into your fist like you punched out a diamond. You can live in a lighthouse and wave at the sailors and your star-studded palm will steer them to shore.



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