Twisted linen in the closet:

rumpled skirt, wrinkled vest..

Who would imagine shirts

could dent.

Comical to even consider remedying that.

Seems I can not stay put.

A magnet polarized from place

when place is done.

Not that I want to be washed from the creekbed.

I’ve bolted, leapt, flown, jumped and been

catapulted;

I’m praying for a gentler crossing

this go round.

The hanging lines held in linen

are a telling road map

of more to come.