all that sits between

By Cheryl Marie Wade

All that sits between your chrome wheeled chair and mine.

A distance of freak names and shackled possibilities. A land of Mother disappointment. Child's play locked in hospital bed rails. Acres of starch white indifference. Probes into private spaces without introduction or permission. Cripple yearnings for whole and romance. Once to be desire. Once to be pure flesh on fire.

(The woman moves again, observing, noticing until she sees another audience member)

All that sits between your jagged bones and my gnarl attitude. Telethon assumptions. Prayers to granite invisibility we call God. Rosary beads sewn into the lining of a coat. Shame on our tongues like scales. Cartoon silhouettes in rage-lit freeze frame. Cripple yearnings for calm and ordinary. Once to be just fine. Once to be so fine.

(The woman looks at all the people in the audience)

All that sits between your searching heart and my sarcastic hope. Words that spell our names correctly. Laws that do more than just token our promise. Dreams like ants crawling under our skin. And the reach, the reach across the distance, frail-boned hand to twisted spine. These lives of passion and disturbance. Echoes in the storm. And such a long, such a long, long way to go.