Mapped out
Are you lost? Asking for a friend.
It sure looks that way. Stood still,
surveying the map until it bleeds.
It may as well be emptied, blank,
waiting to be drawn upon.
The roads twist out without you.
Shadows can’t bend. You have yours.
Some leak into the pavement gaps,
fill the spaces people left behind.
He carries eyes in a pickle jar.
Light flickers, even in darkness.
It has an edge. Stealing bright.
They said you danced in laughing;
they said your body grew heavy –
now you’re lighter without it.
Do you take sugar in your tea?
Clouds gather, look fit to break.
Count on rain, someone said.
I see a lone caribou outside,
walking the long road eastward.
We know not where he goes.
Is he lost? Do you think he’s lost?
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, February 12, 2021
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