We’re not used to this –
taking the side streets
the back roads.
There are no maps for these angles
no turn-by-turn directions.
Only a maze of trails that lead
to the beginning.

You might as well do it
Might as well crack my chest
wide open.
Reach in for my heart
ignore the breathing
heaving lungs.

Everything I love is on the table.
So keep my heart for
the rest of the night
But leave my legs.
They are
limbs committing treason
or something just like.
Can’t get me around the river
or over these trees.
Better to stand rooted
dreamless
full of sleep.