folded my fingers into shapes  
they didn’t resemble birds  
but I imagined flight anyway  
you scribbled something on napkins  
left them in the glove box  
that car is someone else’s now  
but I still reach for it  
like memory has a latch

the basement was a place  
not sacred, just echo-heavy  
we taped pieces of ourselves  
to the walls  
and screamed  
not for help  
but to hear the echo  
then acted like it wasn’t us

I made a compass  
out of whatever was left  
it spins  
I spin  
there’s no north  
just motion

I’m still tracing maps  
they don’t have names  
the house doesn’t have a floor  
I keep climbing out of myself  
trying to feel  
something  
anything  
these words don’t answer  
but they’re all I have  
I’m sorry  
I broke it  
I didn’t know what it was

we chased something  
light maybe  
with jars  
it slipped out  
your voice didn’t hold  
it cracked  
under everything we carried

I counted the ceiling  
not the tiles  
just the breaks  
thought maybe  
if I touched enough  
it would explain itself  
but it didn’t  
and the silence  
was louder than the cracks

I tied string to memory  
but it didn’t hold  
the knots  
unraveled  
like everything else

still tracing  
still no names  
still no end  
I tried to redraw the sky  
but it stayed  
unmoved  
these lines  
are all I can give  
they shake  
I shake  
I’m sorry  
I lost it  
I thought I could protect it

this isn’t healing  
it’s just movement  
falling  
forward  
out of whatever I thought  
would catch me  
the glass broke  
but your face stayed  
framed  
by something  
I can’t name

we are  
maps  
hearts  
lines  
none of them finished  
but we try  
we try  
we try  
again

What an email,
Can reveal!
Embedded within the message,
What simple words unravel;
From where, and whom, they have traveled!
How much one can extrapolate
From mere more than chatter,
It would be astounding if not frightening
That you can tap out so much
From just dry lightning.

a knot of traffic
unravels
to reveal.... nothing
no reason for delay
no great drama
just
too many people
in too many cars
in one place
at one time
wanting to be in front
all more important
than everybody else

Escape from what?
The pieces impalpable
Once part of thy self, are
Nowhere to be found
How many times will you try
To cope up
From some feeling
Very profound.

Escape from what?
Your own self or the world
Is only one force governing you?
Or is it dyarchy, through and through!
You try to split from the other
But it has an embrace
Around you
With the tightest glue

Escape from what?
The happy or the gloom
Calm or chaos,
You do have a clue
Or do you?
Is it numb or very eerie
Always sad, never cheery?

Escape from what?
Reality, harsh and smooth
O dear, stay here
It is going to be a tough root
Though all the impalpable
Would unravel
Someday on a blue moon!

“Unbind
Unclasp
Uncover
Uncurl
Unfurl
Undo
Unfasten
Unfold
Unhing­e
Unhook
Unleash
Unlink
Unmask
Unroll
Unveil
Unclip
Unlace
Unzip
­Untie
Unbutton
Unlock”

“Undress.”
“Understood.”

Unravel

Even when I unravel,
hope still hangs on by a
t
  h
      r
          e
              a
                   d

I was writing about the things
that I won't feel anymore.

great words, today, are flowing from the authur
what will be the message delivered, to you, the observer
how will each individual interrupt what is composed
it is not the author's duty to unravel written reflections
the chore in the written word is subject to reflection
what do you see?

Brian Hill - 2020 # 218

Untied shoelaces,
Untied heart,
Her words flowing freely from
Her mind,
Her black boots tapping a rhythm
Known only to
Her.
Her eyes bloomed like
Orchids
When she blinked,
And her chocolate fountain hair
Spilled over her gray graphic tee,
The messy bun
Unraveling
As her thoughts slowly
Unraveled
Themselves onto the page.