Jan 30, 2022

Your wry wary words,
deft, and kind,
that I brushed away,
as if they were weightless

now rattle roller-coasting
wide ellipses in my skull,
each loop a queasy pinch
of hard-earned truth you gave of

If only I could power
the fog lamp on the front cart,
its searching beam could splash on
something other than thundering tracks.




field freelancer - checkered pasta - rookie witch