Providence

I was expecting a petrified map
a bare wall
pleading (with a curled lip)
for my muddy hands

But in the bathroom
of that toy train theater
I found a pushpin
that I didn’t remember dropping
the night that I stretched my neck
halfway to the popcorn-stucco ceiling
and vowed through popcorn-stucco lips
that I would let myself be free

This town is growing memory flesh
in philo dough layers
there are new things
to learn to let go

I was expecting a bare wall
not the shadow of my voice
telling stories about the mud

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