this is a plaintive whisper
tossed into the extended palms
of my ever-fickle playmate

she is statuesque, commanding
unnervingly lovely and bright
living like she means it
and sometimes yearning for me

i can see the deep creases
in the skin of her hands
taut and grasping
tendons fighting 'round her fingers

at times i want her to stand beside me
swinging a pickaxe as we are
singing the songs of the prisoners
in the yellow weeds at the roadside

but not today

my only desire is to be lifted
by those familiar hands
carried to the place
where my dreams are stowed

let her take on the burden
and me
for she knows not shackles
nor has she ever tasted resignation

one hundred thousand steps left on this road
and i plan to take them all
tomorrow i will wake with ambition
laying kisses on my brow
and dawn will find two hollow shackles
broken on the ground