Abide

 

It all falls away.

 

Is this space narrowing, strangling,

until there’s no room to turn,

or is it widening in a tidal spread,

until there’s no horizon to be found?

 

I don’t know.

 

Meanwhile, I flinch from all the righteous “shoulds”

that whip around with their teeth bared,

whenever strangers come too close.

 

How do other people know how things should be?

I sure as hell don’t.

 

It all falls away,

until I wish for nothing:

no answering glance, no turn of the head,

no hand next to mine on the turning wheel.

 

Yet, I still abide.

 

I don’t need to know much, to hold this shrunken, boundless space.