Ode to a Teenager
The shards of clay muttered under your breath
Pierce the vessels gripping mine.
I hold fast to a calmness I
No longer personify.
To wish such restraint would be at my side
And wrap me with gentle arms
Seems futile when by seconds I’m touched
By your tongue-formed darts to my soul.
Withdraw, push forward, pull back, lean in
There is no perfect way.
I spin myself a dozen times
To see which way I land.
You spin me ’round with laughing eyes
To see if I will stand.