Heavy

My soul, hangs from

my heart, heavy like

when a punching bag dangles

from an unsuspecting paneled

ceiling.  Heavy limbs, heavy breasts,

heavy, not sexy, lashes that tend to

shut my eyes, blind me, add to my

debilitation. A heavy chin, that shows

off my Rosie O’Donnell, damning,

double, drooping chin. My demeanor

heavy and exasperated, in need of

a Ritalin for a break, from the heavy

doors of my perception.  Pep up, brief,

and understated.  Yet the soul remains,

yawns, heavy and left on a the tail

of a prayer.