! ! Poem by Zyw Zywa

That sense of yellowing and falling
to an adornment around my feet
the richness of what was, what wasn't

missing, I know that well
but I'm not looking at it
the way my friends do

Only for a while do they join me
down in my beauty and gratitude
and then they quickly stand back

aside again
looking into the pit
in which I am budding

That sense of hard work
on the balance beam and whoopee
I live, io vivo, I know that well

I do not fall, I plus up
and subtract, step by step
I go further than they do