Travel Bag
by matthewmousekewitz
I’m clawing at paper skin To replace the engine Start. stop. embellish. Try shaking your saturated stories Dry over fire. Do I Simmer like neighboring sprinklers Or stutter mud under your soles Or guide you through light trails Or linger in trees? “This is the furthest I go For finding the silent windows They always meet mine Even without a light.” A promise to given time After I remove the blinds.