Untitled, London Bellman
you danced with your hula hoop
like it was a third arm, a tail,
a wayward extremity you could move,
but couldn’t quite control.
when I peeled my eyes,
you turned jellyfish in
the wavering light,
tentacles floundering,
your northern hemisphere,
the creature’s umbrella
all bell-shaped,
all traveling and restless.
nothing to me then,
not war or heartache —
hunger for days —
seemed sadder than the thought of
your body stopping
and your rippling center,
finally still
and done.
_____________________
Gabrielle Peterson