Poetry

High resolve

So I taught myself to run again (again). It’s all about the playlist. Plus the way the cold forgives us, given time. I say good morning like I mean it. All the zen

one would expect. I’m new. I’m good. Wise men are worried for my knees. I have today,

exactly like I did before, and pray:

Forever and forever, girl. Amen.

Running can’t fix everything, I’ll grant you.

I still remember too much and regret

the bulk of it. Still, here’s what humans do:

fuck up, resolve, get better, then forget. Above the trail, a wayward cockatoo – her screeching, my panting, some duet.

 

 

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