fallen picture. [poem]

the frame is tilting on my arrival

and it feels like I’m slowly sliding

out of the frame

an image tucked into

a familiar setting

for all to see –

I am known.

and yet my return is so

unfamiliar in all this

knowable air,

it’s like I can’t be the

same anymore when really

nothing has changed at all.

it’s all one giant picture

and I’m slowly sliding

out of the frame…

but the floor welcomes me

in a world of possibilities

of trampling feet

and ignorant calls

but free motion to

run.

            think.

                           feel.

I’m looking up at the sky

as everything goes by

and in a way

it’s kind of nice to be free.

in a way it’s kind of nice

to call this my

home.

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