Zywa Deformed

That mix of best wishes
admiration and pity -
fermenting and bubbling in me

as soon as I see her
My stomach and throat are churning
They deform my humanity

Her eyes shoot
faster than my thoughts
her head reaches around the corner

to the sun, a rock is lying lazy
in her lower back
Shaking knees

One leg swings
around the other
feet behind each other

Her arms cry
to heaven and wring
out my powerlessness

Poem 1127
Amsterdam, 2017-03-05

A deformed woman, like a twisted horse chestnut (thanks to the torsion, all the leaves get moisture)
Collection: Pending rain 
Keyword: Body: functioning 
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