In Between

Comments (0) Issue 2, Poetry, Writing

In Between

By Dana Shahar

 

When the song starts to play,

It’s the trembling notes that grip you like tiny, pink fingers.

When we start to dance, it’s wool socks on carpet and mouths full of laughter.

I feel exposed, like an orange,

And I reach for the dozens of pieces that made up my shawl of a peel,

The ones you tore away,

Because you knew something sweeter was waiting.

 

            ~

 

Sometimes I find cracks in the sidewalk

And I fill them up with dirt,

Because I’ve never liked broken things.

That way, filled with dirt, when it rained,

The dirt would drink it up and slosh like a sopping towel.

That way, filled with dirt, when it rained,

It was caught,

Instead of falling in between.

 

            ~

 

Charcoal hands wiped on blue jeans,

Your grin stretches and clatters in me like a screwdriver

Rolling off of the counter.

I can’t help but smile, too,

And I let out a gust of breath.

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