Like a germ, I can feel this city
trying to cough me out
I just want to put miles on my car
with the windows down, blow smoke
at the rear view mirror and feel
no guilt about what Iβve left behind:
βthe portraits
in which I painted myself dead,
rot-blue and bloodied
βthe man
who made me promise Iβd return,
now deceased, a playful haunt,
sometimes crow, sometimes raven
βthe kittens
who clawed my heart out
when I put them in the crate
βthe mountain
who rewarded me
for stillness
βthe MFA
acceptance letter
shredded
βthe body
I tried to kill by fire, by refusal, by
dis int eg ra t i o n
into anything but myself
Not to go back home, but to return
to the wandering solitude,
to follow those hard yellow lines
across borders I cannot see,
to infect nothing,
to let go and join the wind,
exist everywhere
Retrograde
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Thank you so much! πππ
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