Zoo morning breaks
and big cats strike a yoga pose
unaware their stretch is replicated
by their wild counterparts
and by the people who rise
and feel instinct twitch
in their own muscle but who,
by their need to rationalize
or explain every moment
of their lives, cannot just be
in the moment of peace
that requires no contemplation.
Why is it I feel gravity so intensely,
instead of the weightlessness of space?
While you, on public view through
the gym windows, lit crisply on this
dark October evening seem to run
without effort. As light as a hologram,
your feet do not pound the treadmill,
each one a leaden anvil.
Even as I lie in bed, suspended
above the floor, where I should float
in an illusionists trick, I am heavy,
my weight pushing me
towards the center of the earth.
Poems on this page will change from time to time. The author reserves all rights.