This figure

This Figure

One arm nearly missing,
so he had to shift his own weight.
Soon the second leg
would begin to
take on the role
of the arm.
Toes… extended like fingers,
into the ground,
and up towards stars.

With every part
so very twisted and shifted,
it was becoming increasingly hard
to even say which was which.

To just keep on moving,
he had to turn round himself,
as in a mirror,
spinning twice,
always extended,
enfolded, dependent,
turned into a
circular mass
of unreachable corners.
Places–
all coming and going,
but only ever reaching, and knowing,
his own self.
Even the hand
had become stuck
in this mass of extentions.
Now nearly choking,
but still slightly open,
holding out hope,
through a crack
in the eye that was still
slightly open.

A day–of things yet to come,
and dreams to whisper,
throughout this nearness,
so many measures in hand
and yet not one in the heart…
so very much closed,
by all of these forces,
extended and bended
over every which part.

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