Can You Hear Me Now?

Get any closer to the mouth
piece could kill you. The bitch

in me steps outside
the invisible line I draw

each morning. I wasn’t paying
attention. Never thought I could

turn anything out. But fear
and pride conspire to plot

a demise—not mine. Not a suicide
left in the garden.

Smelling Salts at the Scene of Wrong Turns and Heart Wrecks

And that voice inside
the tunnel releases
an echo: move
on, move on, move on

over to this fresh moment.
And she does. Another one

up ahead—no cell vibrations,
time to break old signals,
ride it out till headlights
slap afternoon awake again.