A Poem About Getting Tangled Up

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You Cannot Anchor Me With Words

I breathe in a land thick

with cows climbing hills for winter

and trash bins on the curb

filled with rotting Halloween wine.

Some mornings I crave

return to the mountains,

the smell of green pine seeping

into my coffee, dark.

Some nights I tumble

my words toward you

without edges.

You glance down on my lips

with one eyebrow raised.

You tell me I’m too quiet

and look at me

as if my pupils could

tell you more

than I know about myself.

I’d rather you wrap

a thin arm around my waist

and give me a reason

not to leave.

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