Posted: December 1, 2014 in Poetry

The other end of my see-saw is a precarious place.
It can tip or spill over the edge, into a muddled mess.
It can crash down with a thud that chatters your teeth.
Sometimes I like to ease myself over to the middle , from the safe end.
From here, I radiate calm and rationale.
Often, I throw myself off altogether and lie on the floor.
Unable, unwilling to ride.
Sooner or later, someone will put me back on.
Or I might clamber back up myself.
One small push and I’m back up in the air.
What I really need, is someone on the end.
So that I might remain level.


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