Andrea Scarpino

Too much of anything

will bend you to your knees.
Exhibit A: gravity. Exhibit B:

rotation. Arms pulled
to your chest, turn faster.

This is physics, ballet.

Once there was a girl I loved,
hair the color of wheat.

Each pirouette, a blur
of golden sun. Then,

an accident, her body flung,

pulled back to earth.
Her car turned over itself,

blur of highway, sky. You see?
Bent me to my knees.

What it means to be bound, free.


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