he’ll tell me to breathe
but i already will be
still i’ll listen
for the soft, cruel memories
and their retreat
it’s never a battle
just a wandering army
watering plants that look as if
they’ll outgrow me one day
i hope to live to see
the maple rise
and think back to when my fingers
were wrapping themselves in cobwebs
just to see what kind of dust
they’d discover
one day our town will be far behind me
but it has always been proof
of what lies ahead.