Lizzy Burnam 🐞

I twisted every bridge, 
rain-sodden, 
like a lemon peel.

I wrinkled every window 
in my fist 
like a handkerchief.  

I beat every door 
against the railing 
like a dusty rug. 

Look, at least I chased 
my own shadow 
and no one else’s, 

my heart keeping time
with the phantom ticking 
of a dead clock,

savoring the limbic sputter 
of a stuttering foot 
over empty space. 

Is there any way to run 
except in circles? 
Not until the tongue 

rolls to a stop 
at the end of a long
forgotten road.