Obstacle Course

I am just so accustomed to thinking no one is going to approach my body with kindness.                                                                                                                                           ~ Roxane Gay

  

I push the air in front of me as I walk and hope it cushions,

veils,

obscures,

so that I pass unnoticed through the crowd,

and the scraping feeling across my neck lifts

away leaving only the tingle,

like the shudder from a lemon slice,

still tacked lightly to my nape,

ready to burst out in full force if attention heats it back to clutching point.

I move with dull and dogged steps 

feeling like a volcano,

towered violence waiting to break free,

but it’s not lava that I spill, 

only

silent and dumb tears.

 Words can’t hurt you

should be rephrased as 

words can’t hurt you where it shows…

In a world that bows to the uniform,

those wounds cannot be allowed to surface,

to throw the pattern off,

to jangle the color scheme,

to skew the line.

 

A closed door and a slumping shoulder

are the only signals that I,

the reluctant and battered contender, 

can allow. 

Letting the air move freely,

to surround me,

in such gratitude for a crumb of respite.

As the obstacle course resets itself

for the walk tomorrow.

 ©jayetomas2017