Second Confirmation
Like white rain like I get cold chills when I think your name like a bruised tongue like crunching the chalky crumbles of my noes like the right path needs a breeze man and I’m confused about what makes it right like so much of that gospel truth is shattered like I’m not sure movement can save like all I can do is fall into his arms like
Hot Air Balloon
I.
A peeping hole
surrounded by Japanese
newspaper allows me
to peek
with a focused eye I see
my body,
shockingly large.
II.
Sometimes I want to be normal,
but mostly I wish freedom
didn’t make heads twirl and lips yap.
My eye lids impulsively fingered
like an Albert Oehlen painting
causing mind jam,
“Are you in a play, dear?”
I am more than anyone,
except Bowie.
If you’re a Rockstar you’re allowed to wear face paint.
III.
Orange blossoms
cleanse the pallet of degeneration.
IV.
Shoot your arrow arms.
Rise ‘cause you’re filled by fire.
Float over water-thoughts.
Just because they call you crazy
doesn’t mean
refuse
to walk like them—arms at sides and eyes down.
If I don’t lift,
I’ll combust—
my rainbowed envelope
drifting in citrus stripes
and oblong polka dots.
I need space to swell.
above.
I ascend
Goodbye earthV.
I reclaim my body,
scoop me up and hold myself
like Michelangelo’s Pieta.
Look at my tiny eyes,
speak
resurrection
lay hands on my bodyreclaim my right
to respond in my body—
lift my
chin skyward let joyexpress the long version with waving arms
wail with pleasure and
quake in rage.
May my broken body be:
a seed buried with hope
a sacrifice to the God of freedom.
Kendall Hoeft graduated from the University of Tampa’s Creative Writing M.F.A. program and currently teaches for Florida International University. She also facilitates “Poetry in Movement” classes; where she combines her passion for words with dance. Her recent poetry can be viewed in Bad Pony Magazine, Patient Sounds, Occulum, Anti-Heroin Chic, Leveler, Driftwood Press and on her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/kendallhoeftpoet.