Wouldn't I love
To curl in on my flailing, heaving soul,
To tuck my head beneath my wing
And remember
The wet wind of a spring road
And the black spider trees
Against the ink blue sky?
If I only knew how,
I would push away these four close walls,
Stumble out onto the damp grass,
And run in any which direction,
As hard as I could.

March 12, 2006.