I Lost Myself

coming up out of the loophole to the navel
the twisting silver surface the land remembers
its sleepless mind its burnt blade
seems like a short life the same brief note
slapdash,
a sweet sensation
something every memory needs
every twist in the road or a stream
spilling like shattered glass past the pane
the cluck
and flap of chickens

*Posted July 29, 2026