Photo by Zoe Kemp
yes, it was the fog that kept me together, somehow,
beaver moon and the next one
have we reached the neck of the woods? have we stopped, really?
outside looking in
the place of no suffering
this is it, divided pink light
i don’t want it
if it feels like i’m not running
so much further
home becomes the middle of nowhere
with the years bringing less to love about it
who were you when you weren’t with anyone?
someone still giving a damn
about the myths that talked of women
as bodies as mountains and seas, anything
apart themselves
of change always for better,
were you smiling all this time?
things that hide
night disbanding, crawling between the walls
this time, and not this time
when i cannot reach into and feel another’s breath
stay close and know what i’ve done
restless
sought for the cured clearing inside my head
and met it too soon