one in the same

it is the easier       clench
holding onto the dotted line

fumbling checkeredly
                                   yet attainable

            towards

a mutual darkness

shared only by an unclenching
only

                    you                 are your own backbone

in the latter

and on it
leading towards what can only be

disconnections
tallied vases on the floor

dripping 'you could have beens'
tallying

further unclenching

to the tune of Miles    the second
tally

    And only one is marked

the extruded bones of
old quills

quailing exuberant lies
that taste like summer
    
        and blow like fall

beckoning us to

follow their given pathway until its belly
is cleaned

yellow droplets on the floor.

or let go let go let go

and follow no one
leading nowhere

making postcards in post script
you will see

it will be the same and it could be different