Blinking with Fists (And Other Caterpillar Tales)

Gentle waves rise
just off the fingertips
All I breathe is mine
By name alone
Shape-shifter questions
To strip skin off slow
Devoid of sex
I mix up unions in the offering
The hushed-up voices are here
But they are sated full
Waiting for the stumble
That must surely come
"this time," he declares loudly
(annonymous town square)
"this time there will be no stumble"
and the crowd, on cue, errupts wildly in unison, "hooray"

while I sleep they come in pairs
to pat my head and teach old verse
I try to tell them my life is redundant
By placing my finger to my temple to show knowing
With bruises at the ready I am
Blinking with fists

The chorus lines up to sing
A deep breath, ready to begin
A crying baby breaks the silence
Awkward laughter ensues, on cue
"divine order," says someone

falling down chimneys, thru veins, out limbs
into masterpieces drawn in dirt
the figures are portrayed in a stunning act of repose
their bindings on their wrists
they are still blinking