I have a small curved edge to me. It is not long.
It is not sharp. It is the shape of the air.
It mimics the air in late August or early September,
That is soft upon our skin.
My shape is the shape of the air-the air
that is so smooth. It is not an everyday thing-
this air.
It is clean and rare, and
“once in a while”.
It’s fresh and unbelievable, and we should stop
traffic and refrain from going to work or attending school.
It makes me feel like I never want to go indoors again.
The air. The air up there. I’m going to go up there.
There is a shape to me. Like all shapes, it has an edge.
Like all shapes, it is defined. Like all borders, there
are sides …
And those who are unaware that they have crossed
the border will soon become aware.
This occurrence
serves no false purpose-
only the
Shape-
Of
Me
EiLeen Doster is … INSERT BIO