By Kelly Aurora Beltane
This is where we accept direction. To carry us on
non-disclosed open road. Hamster-wheel Earth under rims.
They spin with nowhere to go. Here. Right here. The map
shows no arrival. No place we haven’t been before.
No look in the mirror with new eyes. No ice scraper brush
with a stranger. We understand this place because our hearts
have been broken before. On the side of a goodbye. A soft
shoulder to cry away into canyons of candor. Here. Left here,
dear. Turn here. We are pointing to glass, to paper, to each other.
