Shifting

Bend

In the library stacks,

Some must see insanity

In our repetition.

I see the past.

Enough as She Is

Books from bottom shelves

Lean, crouch

So You Want to Talk About Race

To top shelves

Rolled away to bottom shelves

Malinche, Pocahontas, and Sacagawea:

Indian women as cultural intermediaries and national symbols

Squat, stoop

That become top shelves.

Writings of Farm Women: An anthology

I thank my morning workout for my flexibility

I chastise that same workout for fatigue

But, these past years have all been about fatigue

Fatigue is over extension

The reach of my heart suctioned

Throws a straw to quench a thirst claimed

But blood does not fight dehydration

Blood is not water.

Fatigue is waiting for waiting

For the waiting and their waiting to end

Pumping, pounding, ticking, counted seconds.

On hand over knee

I press the wheel away cart.

It squeaks.

It rolls.

I shift.

Carry

In the library stacks,

Some must see insanity

In our repetition

I see what could have been.

Wrists strained. Volumes tumble.

No matter the weather mornings, the shoulder bag flew

Air to wing without feathers.

I shift.

Bear. Bring. Lug.

Small Business Resource Center

Short or long hours

Later that same shoulder tilts to an angle

That dares the ground to catch its windfall.

Canning, Homesteading, Gardening

I carried a section

(to tables)

Of each section

(to chairs)

Where I sat then, didn’t matter

Though I couldn’t find comfort.

But, these past years have all been about fatigue.

Fatigue is waiting for waiting

For the waiting and their waiting to end

Swatting sounds. Thumping pages.

Haul. Hold. Move.

Whispers muted. Heads tilted.

Flicking, tipping, blinking, skimmed pages

I stretch.

Space.

I shift.

Find

In the library stacks,

Some must see insanity

In our repetition.

I see the never was.

Tied Up in Knots: How getting what they wanted has made women miserable

But, these past years have all been about fatigue.

The untying of knots, the sifting of strings

Loose and without purpose.

Spot. Discover. Come across.

Sideways on a Scooter: Life and love in India

Not India, but Guatemala, corte tucked under hand and over moped seat

Fatigue is waiting for waiting

For the waiting and their waiting to end

Unrequited love. Borrowed lives.

Calendar squares climb up to balance scales dressed as cupboard shelves.

Books from bottom shelves

To top shelves

Rolled away to bottom shelves

Hit upon. Locate. Stumble upon.

That become top shelves.

The World Until Yesterday

In the sections, where the known words

Became new ones,

I see them in unfamiliar places

New Gaps left by weeded black and white woven fibers

Make me see them

I stand up.

“Leave a hand’s width at the edge.”

I shake the wrinkles from my knees that gathered water.

Move.

I measure my hand, fingers tight,

A kind of wave.

Move on.

I

Shift.

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