unbound

I say jump! But I do not jump. I indicate energy
and yet I still look for my own bloom—
through fine lines, past flat belly to cold toes.

Everything is careful and documented these days. Lightly treaded.
I am not bound and I feel the burden of what holds me?
Not pursuit of purse and suit.

I work and I walk and I sew and I plant and I cook and I clean and I speak and I sleep

I’m not a real dazzler
but I only borrow the salty soft whys from the unfulfilled.
Incanting patience with a cycle of believe, bereave, be, believe, bereave, be.
I’d rake in all those hesitant moldering leaves and celebrate the end of this season, but they’re not mine to burn.