I remember a stopping point
leading up to full bloom,
shaking and wondering:
Why haven’t I done this before?
I came hard and cried:
Green irises exploding in jaguar spots.
I cry sometimes.
Sometimes I cry.
I didn’t feel bad
about the train sex.
I was afraid of the next stop,
but I didn’t feel bad.
I didn’t speak.
I couldn’t.
I drew a line.
Today is better
than yesterday.
I just let it be,
just curled like so;
Like a pillow in a case,
a hand around a book,
Just so.
