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2011-07-13T23:17:03-07:00July 13th, 2011|Musings on life|

Yoga class

The beginning
is always the same

crumpled
brittle
wondering

why I traded my bed
for this hard
floor.

Perhaps
if I just sleep
the others will marvel
at my stillness.

But I’m not bold enough
to fake it
so I stand up
my legs are starchy
stubborn
wrists wobble
I jump forward

gravity
chuckles.

Then it happens
suddenly
the clunkiness
is swallowed
by my breath
my unyielding joints
forgive
I am warm
long
elastic
light.

Class is over
I am melted
asleep on the floor
such a perfect
bed.

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