this poem is neither
here
nor there,
line nor square
(one).
she has scrib
-bled her
-self in sidewalk chalk,
and then
hopscotched across
her own bright skin,
left just one small
skipping stone within.
shhh.
she’s still here,
still stained.
waiting for rain.
::
In April, we poem.
This is also a second offering for this week’s Quadrille. Come play!
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
I do hope that rain comes to you in blessings!
“bled herself in sidewalk chalk” WOW.
“… and then hopscotched across” This is all so powerful to me as I have been reading much about suicides lately and love how an “almost” can be averted with a cross.
I see a tortured soul becoming a Mary Poppins as a means of survival and mental health.
Oh… really loved this… especially the ties to the hopscotching
incredibly clever word usage, De!
you’re so good!
❤
David
Beautiful beat to the words. I was skipping along with you.
Echos of e.e.cummings whose style of so admire … this is beautifully penned!!
I really liked how “she” “hopscotched across her own bright skin”. Wonderful.
Thank you!