I’m a bit like a moldy CRUST of bread, on which there has been a SPILL of sour milk, a leftover, shoved in the back of the fridge – used up, crumpled, no good bits left

I’m also like a tender green bit of growth, growing up out of the cement of the sidewalk or the tiles on a roof, bringing a bit of life to a dark, deadened place, strong and powerful while flexible and adaptable

I’m at the SHANK of the journey, meaning the latter part, the early part, or maybe even the main part, all of it true, and it’s impossible to know how much lies before me and so not yet able to make meaning out of what lies behind me

I’m SAVVY and naive, curious and knowing, a bundle of contradictions, yet with clarity of purpose and commitment to love

Georg’ann

Some say ANGER is useful,
clarifying of needs, motivating
a way forward. Slippery slope,
she’s mired in the muck.

SCALP massage helps,
no pulling out the hair.
Retreats into mellow music,
SASSY stylist chatter.

From within bubble
exudes calm. Still not.
Finely honed SAVVY
meets all the moments.

Heather