Kick
Kick in.
Kick in the—
(fill in those blanks…)
Hey, does the kangaroo of you really know your own lengths?
Yes, feeling the pouch, that cocoon where you often beat
unknowingly hurt but also swim in comfort,
tapping melodies & rhythms with nurturance
& further birth in the end to the still ultimate umbilical link—–
Yes, why should it be any different now
no matter what’s kicking at you tonight or today?
Why should it be when you are still kicking back – aren’t you –
even if in withdrawal tantrums?
Isn’t that also flight? The vines of Thrush?
The pebble driveway sparrows & their grand pecking
some resonance close to the sound of rain?
Oh you, ever-kicker, even when kicked,
& ticking with soccer chorus-line-Rockettes,
you know death too might just be one more blow,
one more door to take, so while you are going,
breathless but a breathing being,
kick low, kick high, each an effervescence.