To begin again-
like returning to
the scene of the crime.
2,142 miles took my toes
straight back to the edge
of The Pit.

A gaping black maw
of being left or leaving.
I see the eyes
shining at the bottom
when I teeter forward
to look at Love's victims.

I almost topple in,
but then see ghost's hands
have been working on my bridge
all this time.
So I cross it into
the land of the lonely.

I work on a garish grin
to keep the men at bay.
I wave to my mother
back on dry land,
"thank you for squaring
my shoulders again."

She salutes me with
her hammer and nails,
summons the wind
that fills up my sails,
and christens me for
my next voyage.