Testimonies

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Like rhythmic ribbon gymnastics, life
streams into the stratosphere by eagle leaps
not undiscontorted wit' splashes of dust
colored by the sun, meted out in
spirals & swirls of abdication/
as preschool graduation, in our play-grown-up attire, we look lost but for nursery rhyme, proffer glimpse of potential to come, on a later day than this/ we acknowledge the drums, but the cadence we lack/ as the willow, we super impose ourselves to life's dodge-balls, soon surrender tactile recognition/ we touch-down in no litle configuration our morals & values the worse for wear/ were from Jamaica, would big-up our chest I haven't felt Ire since 85/
in our painted tights, we play to society
as grashoppers to the corners of earth
our score cards we check
unfurled by a Higher Judge
pray we pass before we pass/
Ringling's cherubs.

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