Got The Ball

gaping head divided half-thought
half-work of my hands look straight to the eyes looking at you

a ping-pong

existence of wrinkled hands the ball stops
in midspace words attempt a beginning the ten fingers grab
reality the eyes and the nose united in partnership

something fishy and illuminated

the ball is in your hand now
you are in control of your heart keep it your fingernails stuck on the surface of her skins

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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