Between is a hard place to live in.
She shuns wheelchairs and
mongoloid faces, mad that her mind
will fight to keep her
quarantined
from her own car, yard,
babies.
You are. Or you are not.
You're sick. Or you're well.
Between is a hard place to live in.
Bi racial,
Bi cultural,
Bi sexual,
Bi polar...
halves of wholes.
But it's never that simple
like breathing nuance
should be.
Each morning,
she stretches her fingers toward a life
just out of reach,
and grudgingly squeezes into a seat at a table
that bumps her knees.
