I leave markers to make my maps
So uncertain is the flesh
the pathways back to you.

Distances lack perspective –
A disappearing horizon.
I glance over my shoulder,
Feel my way forward.

My mouth denotes *** holes,
Man-holes
Rivers and ravines,
Snow-capped city streets.
Bite of metal on metal.

The cartography of your spine.

I trace fault-lines,
Body shaking with tremors
Graffiti with finger-tips
Vandalise with bite marks
Learn the hard way.

Name cities,
Mountains,
Wait out storms in silence.

Follow the marks of those who have come
Before me,
And know  for those who will come after

X marks the spot.