as the vulture spirals
What are you running from? the rain murmurs
Tap-tap-tapping on the glass.
And where are you running to?
You push the pedal flat to the floor.
The past. The past. The past.
What are you hurting from? the leaves question
Drifting down from gnarled limbs.
And whom do you wish to hurt?
You watch your breath-mist hang in the air.
Just one. No one. Just him.
What are you crying for? the surf rumbles
Beneath the seagulls' circling wings.
And what do you hope to get?
You dig your fingers deep in your ribs.
I don't. Expect. A thing.
What am I beating for? your heart wonders
Hitching in place before it drops.
And why should I persevere?
You blink raw eyes and finally see.
I don't—I won't—