This bed
She told me
Is no safe harbor
I’ll scour barnacles
Cut moorings
Burn maps
Take back my soul
To give to the wind
Your mind
She told me
Is anchored
Dragging the bottom
Caught on old stories
Of dead selves
And journeys that
Were never ours
The past
She said
Is gone
The future
Uncertain
Erase yourself
In this truth
Only then
Can our lines
Be drawn again
~r