"Swing" & "Spare Rib"

I. Swing

We used to 
hurl ourselves
into sticky
summer heat.

melt into plastic
separating us
from earthly obligation.

And now it’s grown
over run
with weeds and dirt.

My father said his
before we were ready.

He took to the old shovel
axed it
and buried it
in the backyard.

No more dancing
in air.
No more squeals of
blonde curls.

II. Spare Rib

A force is leaking
from the folds
of my ancestry.

I am not the opus!
But have been
destroyed by destiny.

An ache broke through:
belly out-
curves explored.

And with a push
of the trough
the insides are torn.

Creation is carved
from the
marble of thighs.

Though stone cannot
shriek nor
collapse under cries.

Come witness nature’s undoing!

At the frays of my skirt
she is quietly tugging.