Under the Covers
By Nordette N. Adams
Under cover of scars crissrossing the torso,
purple-blue etchings mesh into one nest
stubborn spirits of slurs escaped
from inept exorcisms, hiding
an impostor's beat. This metronome
times the rise of withering supplications.
Alone, she skates figure eights,
the eternal curve. If only
she could swerve off the deepening groove
to sail a new arc high through air,
she could retire her blades, rend the mask,
reveal the straight lip, the damp eye,
the brow wrinkled as a mother's
when children fail and fail again.
She's prayed this pain projecting from her
back, through the shrink of cleansing organs,
means wings budding, that God is
closing windows to open the door wide
for her soft, feathered, coverless journey.
© 2010 Nordette N. Adams