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

                                                    entangled

                                                    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=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/lindenbaum/392018531/”>tlindenbaum</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;