I’m not

                                                    frozen in this moment…

                                                    My memory is as old as stone.

                                                    Relative to the rhythm of a tap dance

                                                    it is entertaining

                                                    but no longer of use

                                                    for direction.

                                                    I am


                                                    in the estrangement of local weeds

                                                    the cadence of direct deposit

                                                    the allegiance of filtered water

                                                    the geometry of home.

                                                    There must be

                                                    a more reliable guideline

                                                    in chaos

                                                    I tell myself…

                                                    I’ve worked hard to lose

                                                    the map of my soul.

photo credit: <a href=””>tlindenbaum</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;