In a picture of the black and white lines of a playground,
I find myself an alien being with angled arms, tilted head
And strangely straight legs. Where is the crooked woman
I see in the mirror? Yes, arms and head are akimbo to take the shot but
Look at the legs, they are straight so is my body.
What magic is this?
In the parking lot suddenly another is there.
Look at her all straight-legs, even body not curving left.
The next time we arrive at the park, I see tree shadows on the parking lot.
An idea-I love trees. As I do my morning stretches, I look at the sturdy oaks on the hills
Around the house. Straight, strong their roots go into the earth
And grab on. I want that to be me sturdy and reaching into the earth.
Becomes reality. Standing in front of the shadow tree,
I become part of the tree. Legs expand the trunk.
Look how solid we are.
My head is nestled in with the leaves and branches.
I become young green and able to wind bend.
What fun. Tree and I are crossing the line.
Rebels we trick what is real. What is not.
We shadows are real. Possibilities travel in the sap
Of our strength. Even if only for the moment of this
Late sun time, I am strong, straight. My stick, a new root,
Cracks macadam and drives straight into the earth.
I leave the possible world with another new idea.
Only the concrete posts of chain link fences
Share my shadow ground. The links have disappeared.
I am surrounded by post shadows
Of my expanding strength.
What is possible?
Janice DeRuiter Eskridge 2019