by Joan Colby

Poses the question: how one lives
unaccompanied, strong
in the boots of vigor.

Curves beneath the grip
of the needy, promising balance
to crippled hearts sorrow cannot mend.

Crook-necked as a flamingo
poised on one long leg,
it thrusts the

rubbery toe of its
black digit ahead of the step
about to be taken.

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