Mirror Ball Awnings Poem by Mark Heathcote
Mirror Ball Awnings
It's as if gravity were just a joke
narrowly swinging on a silken rope
tiptoeing on the air, she's all sewn up.
It's as if she's walking on the moon
or dancing around a spinning loom.
Her egg sac of young is ready to erupt.
High wire breaking from their trapeze yolk
it's mesmerizing to watch, but I balk-
away from any form of hand-touching
as I watch in wonder her brood hatching….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/28/2024 11:08:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
