Constant and steady,
Never circling their way back—
I dive for them
As though they were fish
Jumping out of the water sporadically.
Sometimes they slip through my fingers
Slick and hard to grasp,
But sometimes I find myself with a prize,
A living body, squirming in my hands—
In my control, ready to shape, ready to mold.
Photocredit: Unsplash.com/Drew Farwell |
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