Tumbling stumbling
Chaotic rumbling
of this stolen hearth; Earth
is heating,
unto cheating,
meeting
of our thousand makers.
Nothing left,
just dust and sweat,
Dance run out,
Voices shout;
No words on lips,
no hug nor kiss.
For I'm free to be,
but trapped to thee,
in this spectrum
we call life.
-Eliza K.
YOU ARE READING
Life is a Wiggle
PoetryFortune cookies can be right, no matter how wrong they sound. October and I (Eliza) found this to be humoring upon many occasions—like when she managed to pull a nearly incoherent one out of a sweet yet plain cookie. “Life is a wiggle.” We don’t kn...
