Refugee

(or cheap motel with Emily Dickinson, Mississippi Gulf Coast)

The brain

tired in its track

runs stops and starts,

though a splinter

through a tree

I persist.

 

Brain tired in groove

willing death

the body lives and struggles-

busted-knuckles-bad-coffee-

hotel-smokers-room-

black-feet carpet-

 

Grateful complaint

urging on turnpike scooped

lives never back in our groove

or not the same,

we go ‘round,

slowly pass the wobble

to stay intrack.