Letting Go, Poetry


Honeysuckle and waning moon. Outside
the door, freedom leaves
boots of alligator
teeth. They only fit you

when you take off
your skin
shaped name. Slice along seams
and peel back your tattoos,
those catalogues of cravings.

is the chorus you memorized
and forgot
someone wrote. Before it
it wasn’t.

You don’t go. You stay.
The going one is a stranger
with motives
blood type


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