responsibility fell at my
feet
like a dead bird
and I left it for the
collectors of feathers
now I am leaving these words
on sand
for the water
and when everything is gone
a voice will say
that’s home
where two paths cross without
speaking
where a lost shoe full of
darkness
is curled up
under the roots of the snow
then I will point myself in
the right direction
alone I hope
I was never much for company
and start off down an empty
road
toward winter and a silence
which no one will ever repair