the bend in the road 

it’s a question mark, really
a hook 
a crook 
pulling us off stage and into

the next phase. it’s a dusty

rusted muffler 
of a song, a torn page. it’s 

the rearview mirror skewed

things closer 
than they appear. it’s here 

and there and back again

map veins 
free reins 
under your skin. it’s true 

north and all points south

by far 
by stars 
and the blues we leave behind. 

In April, we poem.

This entry was posted in April PAD 2022 and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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