Balancing on the ball of your heel
the heel of your ball
the ball, the balance. The toe that wavers.
To dip in the water without diving too deep.
Obsessing over the lethargy of snails.
'She's moony' they said.
What is she? Baring her ass? Overly in love?
It's not enough to say 'dazed' or 'listless'.
Who falls in love with a still breeze?
The logic of derivation:
If listless is spiritless, then list is spirit.
Imagine the church of list-makers,
'And unto the Great Lister
we supplicate and list our vengeances'.
Supine. Gazy. In the lunar realm
and out again.
I hear noises in the small of my heart,
smell the fog that weighs there.
I try again to balance on the ball of your heel