There will be no confession
Nobody likes that
Carded table
Is Confusion material
Under wraps and knotted in your hair
Rain makes me angry
I don’t want to feel this way
about you
Or at all
Butterflies crowd the train
Grateful for this colorful distraction
When the bird is called to lift the elephant somehow she shows up
I caught my own heartbeat and ran through sepia woods
ragged trees to leap and touch-
the kind of running where you can’t feel your legs-
the kind of legs that are so free
you can’t even feel them
recall the words
that made you start running.