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.