Dislocated Limbs
Like dislocated limbs, we're out of place,
Pulled from the socket—loose, slacked and dangling.
Like elastic skin, we're stretched across space,
Flapping against the breezes of mangling,
Distorted flesh full-pressed, flung in the air,
Hung-dried in the diorama-scape skies.
We're pinched in the tight grasp of vision impaired
Which clings, clutching at our conditioned eyes.
We'd rather not see, becoming blinded,
Looking inward on blankness's design.
Through distantiation, I'm reminded
My fingers fit the notches of your spine.
Though we lie apart, twisted and broken,
Our hearts will repair when they're awoken.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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