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Precarious
A Poem
Weebles wobble but
They don’t fall down
Remember?
The small round toys
Little eggs we would roll and push
They did wobble, they did not
Fall down
The wonders of science, of gravity
Turned commodity
Turned memory
Turned metaphor
Every bit of every day
I wobble and wobble
And I do not fall down
My roundness
My toughness
My womanness
My spirit
Every bit of every day is
Precarious
A small tap from this
A kick or two from that
Spinning and spinning
Wobble wobble wobble
Never falling down.
©Jenny Justice. All Rights Reserved.
Jenny Justice, Poet. Sociologist. Teacher. Mother. Woman. Author of Love in the Time of Climate Change and Reveal. You can read more of her poetry at Justice Poetic. Sign up for her…
