Chameleon

tucked away in the smallest of closets
the child in her bellowed; holding fast to the promise of
an aging hyena’s sly smile, fully prepared
to deny those few strands of self
still clinging to pumping calves
on her steady decline

she left her name at the doorstep
along with her unbound fate, dropped
what little truth she had
into the blossoming weave of her mesmerizing colors
& displayed her heart for rent.

– The Sunday Whirl –

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Stripped Bare

sometimes i lose myself in the gap
between zombie flicks and heroic deeds;
there is a love story, wrapped in plastic,
that reveals my squishy core
and points your way

when pompous days retreat,
I seek refuge, devoid its colors
& smile in grey, not
taking sides
for a change

in this moment,
when your gaze holds mine,
I shed my heavy armor
and, for just a second,
become 
me,
unplugged.

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Fred Rutherford over at dVerse invites us to write a poem on the topic of becoming ‘unplugged’ for Poetics today. Grab a pen and join the fun!