I stand on the rug called Closure,
confident in its design—surely
this story will finish as stories morally do.
But with a flourish,
some unforeseen tragicomic's hand
whips the fringe out from under me and into oblivion.
Stunned now I see the sky
turning like a dial on some fulcrum–
dizzying, rhythmic, and endless.
My feet are still beneath me somewhere
fumbling to find the steadiness to stand again,
so maybe I'll just wait here and watch the clouds instead.
Leslie lives in Kansas City with her dog and runs a Writing Studio at a local community college. Leslie earned her M.A. in English from the University of Tulsa and her B.A. in English from Huntington University. She has taught English, Writing, and Literature at a variety of educational institutions at home and abroad, and she is indebted to her long-standing, creative friends who have given heaps of feedback over the years. Leslie has published poetry in Time of Singing.