Her eye turns inward
seeking the truth.
One tooth is missing,
no nutcracker on the left.
A scar graces her ankle,
lawnmower out of control.
Her heart is aflutter,
perhaps it is love?
Her body--no centerfold-- is yet a work of art.
It does not chart a path by
rules and regulations,
formulas and protocols.
Her body evolves, flows, spirals and,
like a river,
finds its own level
in the container called life/death/life.
