//creative//
Spring 2017
excerpt of the ankle manifesto
Charlotte Rauner
we pinky promised once to read the palms
of those whose hands have beaten us
stolen our cookie recipes, forgotten repeatedly
my friend from high school who had seizures
in bathrooms--these are who will cry
once we are painted gold, beheaded and harboring love
I’m harmless immortalized naked stone
in the courtyard of the temple you are building
you are barefoot in shorts, ankles sunburned and skinny
sculpted, almost, if I were to squint and the sun supported me
all I step on is graveyard land
cocooned, you are petroleum shiny
and I am terrified of your height
there is a plot your family keeps near exclusively
orange trees and other citrus-related places
I’m trying to picnic, write a book of poems there
if you were to love me
your arms would be indescribably weak
the weight of my everything would be Jenga
Egypt on your shoulders, now I add blocks
walking wobbly, nobody stands behind you
of those whose hands have beaten us
stolen our cookie recipes, forgotten repeatedly
my friend from high school who had seizures
in bathrooms--these are who will cry
once we are painted gold, beheaded and harboring love
I’m harmless immortalized naked stone
in the courtyard of the temple you are building
you are barefoot in shorts, ankles sunburned and skinny
sculpted, almost, if I were to squint and the sun supported me
all I step on is graveyard land
cocooned, you are petroleum shiny
and I am terrified of your height
there is a plot your family keeps near exclusively
orange trees and other citrus-related places
I’m trying to picnic, write a book of poems there
if you were to love me
your arms would be indescribably weak
the weight of my everything would be Jenga
Egypt on your shoulders, now I add blocks
walking wobbly, nobody stands behind you
//CHARLOTTE RAUNER is a sophomore in Barnard College and Creative Editor of The Current. She can be reached at cer2170@barnard.edu
